


A Collection of Unfortunate Omens

by OneofWebs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Aziraphale is an Archangel (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Bottom Gabriel (Good Omens), Crowley Has Two Penises (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley is Good at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Dancing, Double Penetration, Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fighting, First Kiss, Gabriel is a Principality (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paperwork, Poisoning, Public Sex, References to Shakespeare, Temptation, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 06:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21796423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: Gabriel, appointed Favorite and Principality, was sent down to Earth to watch after the humans at the first sighting of a demonic snake. Gabriel, as serious as he's always been, does not take this charge lightly. Since the day they met, Gabriel and Crowley have been fighting, competing, and always neck-in-neck.After six-thousand years, something was bound to happen. It may have just happened sooner than they realized.
Relationships: Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 65





	1. The Wall

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyyy Ya boi started a new project. This was supposed to be my first project of 2020 but I figure whatever, I have no self control anyway. Going ahead and posting it now.
> 
> This story has been pre-rated, but not pre-tagged. This chapter has no explicit content in it other than Crowley oogling, but I'll be sure to warn for explicit content at the beginning of the chapters that have it. These chapters will all read pretty much like one-shots, too. But, a whole story will be there.
> 
> This is a very long and thought out thing where the idea was, hey, what if everything was slightly to the left because Gabriel was a principality and Aziraphale was an Archangel. Thought it might be fun, mostly because i've decided I rEALLY like crowley/gabriel. We'll just see where it goes. Without further ado, the first chapter--The Wall

It would begin as it would end, with a dance. Not every dance was done to the tune of a song with interlocked hands and batted eyelashes, however. Songs had not even been invented, yet. There were harmonies and choirs, but the true sort of dancing song had yet to be invented, and it would not be invented for some time.

First, there was a snake. He was the sort of long and villainous snake that it was best to stay away from. Not only for the size of him, the length of him, but because he wasn’t truly a snake. Not all the way through. Inside the snake scales and forked tongue was a demon, and the demon’s name was Crawly. It was a bit too on the nose, but most demon names were a bit too on the nose. It made it easy to tell them apart. It made it easy understand their nature.

Crawly, as all demons, had Fallen. He’d been cast out from Heaven for asking too many questions, and he’d been the one brave enough to chance a risk into the great Garden of Eden—God’s personal playground. Her perfect little paradise for the perfect little creatures she loved so much. Humans. Humans were nothing like a demon or an angel, but She loved them with more care and concern than She’d ever loved a demon or an angel. And She certainly did not love demons. Not anymore.

They had been angels, once, but in the loss of that Grace, they were despised. Crawly was the only one brave enough to make a stand in the face of that disgrace. It wasn’t fair to be cast out into a boiling pool of sulfur just for asking a few questions. Crawly had been a good angel, he thought. He’d been _grand_, even. One of the best. One of the brightest. He hung out with the wrong people. Believed the wrong words. One question, and he was now a snake coiling his way through the grasses of a garden.

The Garden of Eden was inhabited by two people and two people exactly. One was male and one was female—this, in itself, was a new concept. Crawly may have been a he, at the time, for ease of conversation, but it was still an entirely new concept to separate the idea of he and she out into two beings with true differences. Crawly had learned that the name of the man was Adam, and the name of the female was Eve. These names were not helpful, because they revealed nothing about the humans’ essence or nature. Much like the names of angels.

Crawly had tried with Adam, first. Adam seemed an easily susceptible man. He was bright, perhaps. He would know a truth when he heard one, if Crawly painted in such an irresistible fashion that he had no reason to believe it was anything but the truth. It was the truth, of sorts. Truth was what one’s perspective made it to be; that was one thing that Crawly had learned since his time in Hell. Very interesting demons down there, in Hell. Very interesting indeed.

_Have you ever seen the tree_? Crawly asked, hanging down from a different sort of tree. This one bore no fruit.

Adam looked at Crawly, as the snake that he was, and raised an eyebrow. “We are not to touch the tree,” he said, as if it were that simple.

_Do you even know what the tree can grant you?_

“Should it matter? The Almighty has told us, strictly, that we should not touch it. We won’t.”

Crawly sighed. What a boring man. Adam’s name was turning out to mean boring, unimaginative, and rude. Crawly thought he was rude, anyway. There were so many animals in the garden that Adam and Eve fawned over, but Crawly was not one of them. He wasn’t even the only snake. He’d _seen_ Adam pick one of the smaller ones up and cradle it against his arm before letting it slither off. The difference, of course, was that those were snakes and Crawly was a demon.

Realistically, Adam was not wrong for wishing to ignore Crawly. He was right, in fact. Crawly should be ignored. He had come to cause trouble; even if Adam didn’t know that strictly in the truth of it, there was something to be said for just the way Crawly looked.

He was a snake unmatched by the other snakes in the garden. He was large. He was black. His eyes were a sharp, golden yellow, much like the sun. And he talked—that was really the part that set Adam off. Snakes didn’t talk. And this was the kind of talk that rattled at the back of his skull, like a thought, not a voice. These were all things that would have made anyone slightly uncomfortable for being around a particular animal. That didn’t make it fair or fun, but it was, at least, a reason.

So, Adam wasn’t an option. There was still Eve. Crawly, however, wouldn’t go to her immediately. It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t or wouldn’t, it was that he shouldn’t. After their first meeting, Adam had gotten down on his bare little knees and prayed to his powerful Almighty. Exactly thirteen human hours later, Crawly had seen an angel appear on top of the garden walls.

Adam and Eve would not know that the angel was there, for they didn’t know to look for an angel. But Crawly could see the angel as well as anything. Quite frankly, even for a flaming sword at his side, the angel looked like a complete tool. Crawly wasn’t about to care about some tool of a fool looking down over the garden like he even _knew_ what he was looking for. Crawly was too good for that. Too sneaky. It did, however, mean he had to watch.

He watched.

And he watched just a bit longer. Longer still.

Three days had passed before Crawly had figured it all out, from watching Adam and Eve, like he did. They had a soft spot for each other, Crawly had noticed. Adam liked to bring Eve to show her new flower patches that were growing at the base of trees. Eve showed Adam, once, a new family of tadpoles that had hatched in the waters. They showed each other things of new life and looked at each other, often, with the same awe that they’d showed those things of new life.

Crawly didn’t know what to call it. He thought it was foolish, because it would be his way in. Adam would defer to anything Eve told him, because he looked at her like he looked at new life—like he could see the power of God that flowed through her very veins. God had crafted them both, on Her own, and been very proud of her work. Adam and Eve, against all odds, could see that in each other. And it would be what led them straight to Crawly, at the end of it.

He didn’t wait for Eve to come to him, like he’d waited for Adam. Crawly went straight to her, slithering his way after her until he found a tree that would put him at eye-level. God may have cursed him to slither on his belly for all the days of his life, but he would find all the ways to get around her. It wasn’t a curse to be like this. It just opened far more doors than even a human would have.

Eve, upon seeing him, had stopped. She’d seen Crawly before, but she’d never approached him. She’d been just like Adam: afraid of his size, his darkness, and his eyes. But like this, she had no choice but to look at him, because he was hanging down from a branch right in the way of her path. She was, as expected, going to the water. Given the fact that clothes hadn’t been invented yet, Adam and Eve certainly did like to bathe. It kept them clean, and they didn’t know that there was anything else to have that might keep the dirt off their skin.

They didn’t have shame, and Crawly certainly didn’t, either. Not when it had come to staring at the both of them when they hadn’t a clue someone else was around. Animals were just animals, but Crawly was a demon. Crawly had a mind as sharp or sharper than these humans ever would, and he would use it to his advantage.

_Hello_, he said.

“H-hello,” Eve replied. “You’re—I’ve seen you around before. Adam says I shouldn’t go near you. Animals that talk certainly are nothing of the Lord.”

Crawly snorted. _The Lord made everything. She made me as well as She made you._

“Adam didn’t tell me that.”

_Do you listen to everything Adam tells you? _Crawly asked. _Do you have your own thoughts? Make your own decisions?_

“I do,” Eve said, sternly. She gripped her hands into fists. “It wouldn’t be right to make all decisions without him. We’re partners, you know. The two of us.”

_I do know, but even partners are individuals. There are decisions Adam makes without you. About me, for example. Has he even told you _why_ you aren__’t to approach me?_

“Well, no. I didn’t ask, either. I could have asked, and I chose not to. I trust Adam. He only wants me to be safe, as I want for him.”

_He could have shared. But he wouldn_ _’t. He isn’t looking for your safety; he’s looking for control, my dear, Eve._

“You’re lying.”

_What reason would I have to lie to you? I live in this land, same as you. I only want to see what’s best for it._

“Well, yes. I suppose I wouldn’t have any reason not to trust you. Why would Adam attempt to control me, though? That doesn’t make sense.”

Crawly managed a sly little grin when his tongue dipped out between his lips. _He__’s been afraid of you. He sees how wise you are, how kind. He knows that if you stray too far, you will become better than him._

“What do you mean, _better than him_?” Eve asked. She stepped closer to Crawly, against everything in her head that felt the air about him, in all of its darkness. She reached out for him, and he laid his head into her hand.

_The tree_, he said. _The one in the middle of the garden that God has ordered you not touch. He knows that, in your wisdom and kindness, you will see past this and take the fruit._

“Why would I do that? God has said that we are not to touch it.”

_God and Adam are the same. They are afraid of you. The fruit is of a tree straight from the Heavens themselves. Should you eat that fruit, you will become like God._

“How can you know?” Eve asked. She watched, timidly, as Crawly pulled away from her.

_If you eat the fruit_, Crawly said, slowly, _you will be able to make decisions on your own. Try it out—making a decision without the order of God behind it. You may find you like it._

Eve watched, then, as Crawly slipped away into the tree, out of sight. It was terrifying that a snake that size could disappear, just like that, but he had. Eve couldn’t even see a trace of him in tree, which was green and vibrant. Reasonably, Crawly was black and red. He should have stuck out like anything, but he’d vanished. He left Eve there to think things over, think of her own thoughts.

She didn’t know what Crawly meant. Not exactly. He certainly had left her something to ponder. It was a seed of doubt he’d sowed within her, and she couldn’t help but dwell on it, where it was planted. She had never once considered herself overly wise, but she did know the fruits and the leaves in the garden that they should not eat. Adam had attempted to eat a berry, once, and Eve had barely snatched it from his hand in a horror that, should he swallow, he would not live a moment longer.

Adam didn’t know these things, like she did. Adam did not know the names of all the animals, where Eve had helped be the one to name them. Adam did not know the plants, but Eve did. Eve knew everything about the garden save why they were there. Why were there walls that kept them in? Why was there a tree planted right in the middle that neither of them was allowed to touch?

These were questions that she didn’t know the answer to, and she knew the fruit would help. It was the only fruit she didn’t know, and it was a fruit straight from God. It was the missing link, and she would take part of it. She would even bring Adam in with her, if he would trust her as he always had. This fruit wasn’t bad. This fruit would save them from a life of ignorance. It would teach them the wisdom that they needed to be greater than they were, and she was sure of that.

That was an idea that Crawly had not planted. That was the first idea of Eve.

Crawly, who had a very adapted skill to hide in plain sight, had followed Eve straight to the middle of the garden. He hid in the shadows, just out of the way, and watched her approach the tree. She studied it. She looked at it: from the height of it to the size of it. It wasn’t that impressive of a tree, but it was certainly a tree. Like a young tree, she’d decided. One that was still growing. If she waited too long to pluck the fruit from it, the fruit might grow too far out of reach.

She reached up for a fruit and plucked it down. The weight of it was heavy and pleasant in her hand. She twisted at her wrist, looking at all edges of the fruit. It looked particularly tasty. It _smelled_ of delight. Her mouth started to water, but Adam reached out for her wrist before she’d taken the first bite. She hadn’t even heard him approach.

“Eve, what are you doing? We’ve been told not to touch these fruits.”

“Adam,” she said with a laugh in her eyes, “have you ever wondered _why_ we aren’t to touch them? Everything in this garden has been put here for us, so why is this tree off limits? Are there not questions that you ask that have no answer?”

Adam looked at her, eyes wide and in silence.

“This fruit will answer those questions. We don’t have to remain ignorant and blind, Adam. We can partake of this knowledge and _understand_ the world we live in.”

Adam looked down to the fruit, then. Questions. Questions without answers. Things that they didn’t know. It was a very tempting offer, to know the things that they couldn’t know. To bridge this gap.

“My love,” Eve whispered, stepping closer. “This is what we were meant for. We weren’t meant to tread aimlessly in a garden for all of our days. We were meant for _more_.”

Crawly couldn’t help his smile. It was a perfect thing to hear, that Eve had decided they were meant for more than the will of God, which had been to let them wander aimlessly in a garden for their days. Her personal playthings. Her personal play box.

“I will even take the first bite,” she said, running her hand across his cheek. “I would beg you follow with me, if you love me.”

“I do,” Adam breathed, with his hands on her sides. “You are my heart, Eve.”

Eve smiled, and she bit into the fruit.

Crawly, who had made himself rather comfortable on his tree branch, couldn’t help but feel a bit vindicated. When he looked up to the angel who was _guarding_ the garden, he noticed that the angel’s back was turned. The entirety of the temptation had happened right underneath his nose, and Crawly certainly felt as though he’d won. He might even go to boast his victory, eventually. First, he wanted to watch the aftermath of his temptation. Every good demon knew that God only paid Her things mind when it suited Her.

Until then, Crawly could face a lovely nap out in the sun. Adam and Eve wouldn’t bother him, and for the first time, he certainly didn’t mind that bit of reality.

The world was created in seven days, and it took another three before God had realized just what had taken place. That had made it another seven days, and the irony was lost on only those who chose it to be lost on, such as this angel. He had turned around precisely _after_ Adam and Eve had finished their fruit. He hadn’t even so much as _noticed_ that there was an issue. As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t an issue, until those three days had passed, and God made Her anger known.

There had been nothing but a sharp ray of light that cast down on this angel where none else could see it. That ray of light was God, coming down in voice alone to express just how displeased She was at how these events had turned out. She didn’t know why they had happened this way, and unfortunately, neither did Her angel.

“Gabriel,” She bellowed, “there will come a wind strong enough to knock a hole through this wall. Those humans are no longer welcome here for what they’ve done.”

Gabriel tried his best not to look at Her, but it was tempting to look straight up through the ray of light.

“You will be sure they are gone before I return.”

And it was gone just as fast as it had appeared, the light, leaving Gabriel to sigh and flex out his wings. Purple and large. Gabriel was a Principality, charged with watching over the Garden of Eden. He had clearly failed his charge, but God would never say that. There were whispers and rumors all around Heaven that Gabriel was Her _favorite_. It meant he got away with far more than he ever should have been allowed to. That, and it meant that an Almighty Power who should not have been picking favorites was picking favorites.

Gabriel did not care one way or the other, and he turned to face down into the garden. Adam and Eve had overstayed their welcome, and the wind would come soon. It would shake the entirety of the garden until a hole had broken up in the wall. Gabriel would not only be tasked with seeing them out, but with patching that hole so that they could not get back in. The Garden of Eden would be off limits to all humans would come of Adam and Eve, and that was God’s will.

His job had been to protect them, and he’d failed. He was only one angel, but that would have never been an excuse. Something had snuck into the Garden _on his watch_ and ruined Humanity’s chance at eternal salvation. If that wasn’t failure, Gabriel wasn’t sure what failure could else look like. There had to be a way to make this up, especially with the things that would roam outside of the garden. The things out there were not kept docile out of delight and God’s hand.

Adam and Eve wouldn’t stand a chance.

It was almost sad, the way that they seemed to just understand what they’d done. God had, of course, talked to them before She’d made Her decision, and She’d shamed them for it. Their new clothes, woven from leaves and branches had been enough indication that they had eaten from the tree. They’d developed shame with all of their knowledge, and they no longer wished to walk around as bare as God had made them.

So, when the wind came and rushed through the garden, and the hole opened, Adam and Eve would go through it willingly. It was curiosity that led them there as much as the knowledge that they weren’t welcome, there. Gabriel didn’t want to be the one to let them go out alone, even if he didn’t want to be the one to rush them out. Eve, after all, was expecting. The only reason he knew that was because he’d _seen_ them fall into each other. He’d watched it, and regretted the decision, but he’d done it. Adam didn’t even know yet, but Gabriel did.

He wasn’t about to let a man and his pregnant partner go out into the desolate wastelands of the rest of the world to face the beasts that went beyond. That wouldn’t be protecting them, and that was his _job_. God had been angry, but She had not revoked that job. All he had to do was put away the wings and he could be anyone. With a flaming sword, sure, but anyone.

It was the first time that Gabriel had ever touched the ground in Eden, but the grass felt nice beneath his feet. Shoes hadn’t been invented yet, but he was sure that Adam and Eve would get right on that. No sense in burning the feet, after all. He might even send them off with some leaves and branches from the garden so they could get on that. But that might have been a bit too much to explain away, should he ever get caught.

Instead, he rushed across the grass towards the hole. He knew exactly where it was. He’d been watching from above when the hole broke through, and it was only in this rush that he would get there before Adam and Eve managed to get through. They didn’t know him, but they would trust that he only wanted to help. He was an angel, after all. Helping seemed just about the only thing they were made to be capable of.

“Hold,” Gabriel said, stepping out from around a brush. Adam was inspecting the hole to ensure that it would be safe for Eve to travel through, and he stopped and stared at the sudden arrival of a _person_?

Adam stared at Gabriel, but Gabriel didn’t waste time for pleasantries. He, instead, thrust the sword out in front of him so that Adam could take it by the hilt, staring wide-eyed at the fire that erupted from it.

“You haven’t seen what’s out there,” Gabriel said. “I have. It’s dangerous, and you wouldn’t want to go without this. Please, don’t thank me.”

Adam looked like he wanted to do just that. He wanted to thank Gabriel for his strange commentary and offering, but he kept his lips pressed firmly together. He nodded and gripped the sword tightly. Then, his attention was back on the hole in the wall. Now, with the sword, he would go through first to help Eve on after him. Gabriel didn’t move from his spot until he’d seen them on their way, his arms crossed, and his lips pursed. He didn’t know what to think about this, but it wasn’t his job to think.

It was his job to watch out for these people, for the people who would come after them. With that in mind, instead of working immediately on closing the hole in the wall, he spread his wings once more and made quick on the air back to the top of the wall, where he could watch over them, still. He would only see them until they’d gone past the horizon, but it would be enough to learn what he had to do, next. He figured it would be a peaceful thing to do, to stand there and watch Adam lead Eve out through the desert, but there was something itching at the back of his ear.

Slithering. By the time he glanced a look out of the corner of his eye, he watched a _snake_ join him on top of the wall and morph itself into a man. Not just a man, though. A man with long red hair and a brand on the side of his face. A man with sooted, burnt wings the color of ash spread out behind him. A demon.

“That went down like a lead balloon,” Crawly said.

Gabriel didn’t even look at him.

“I said—that went down like a lead balloon,” Crawly tried again.

“I heard you the first time, demon. I was ignoring you,” Gabriel replied, plainly. He did dare a look, that time. A real look, where he turned his head and really, truly took the look of Crawly in.

Crawly snorted. “Harsh. Seems to run in the line, you know? Kicked out for a first offense and everything. Bit over dramatic.”

Gabriel looked back out over the wall, and Crawly followed his glance.

“Can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil, anyway.”

“That’s because you’re a demon, and you can’t see a lot of things anymore. If it wasn’t _bad_, you wouldn’t have tempted them into it—” Gabriel looked at Crawly strangely.

“Crawly,” Crawly said, clearly not bothered by the string of accusations.

“Gabriel.”

“Besides,” Crawly shrugged, “they would’ve done it anyway. Almighty just slaps a tree down in the middle of a garden and says _don__’t touch_? Bit flashy, if you asked me.”

“Nobody’s asking you.”

“Someone was. It’s why I took a walk on up here, you know. Told me to _get up there and make some trouble_. Trouble made.”

“You’re a demon,” Gabriel snorted. “Trouble is what you _are_. Questioning the Almighty like that—no wonder you Fell.”

“What about you, then? You haven’t Fallen, yet? Seems pretty unlikely that some angel who just failed to protect God’s cherished humans wouldn’t have Fallen. Worse than asking questions, that is.”

Gabriel folded his arms. “You can’t question the Almighty. I’ve chosen to believe that She’s forgiving. It wouldn’t to try to know her plan.”

“Yeah?” Crawly laughed.

“It’s ineffable.”

“It’s _ineffable:_ the reason you haven’t gone tumbling down?” Crawly looked on Gabriel with disbelief. “You’re joking. Someone like you ought to have been pushed right off the clouds.”

“The Almighty doesn’t _push._” Gabriel frowned.

“No, but I do.” Crawly suddenly grinned something awful.

When his wings suddenly stretched, furled out to their full breadth, it was to slap Gabriel in the face with one of them. The power of it was enough to send Gabriel stumbling back, and then Crawly did it _again_. This time, Gabriel had enough forethought to reach out and _grab_. It was in a futile attempt to keep himself from tumbling over the edge of the wall, but at least he would take Crawly with him, just by the very edge of his wing.

What a tumble they took, falling down off the wall one after the other. It was the shock of it that kept them from immediately catching the wind and flying away. Not just the shock, it was the _anger_. Gabriel looked at Crawly and wanted to grab him by the throat and send him straight back into the ground where he came from. Unfortunately, Crawly wanted to take Gabriel with him. They even managed to fight in their fall, where Crawly’s hands wrapped around Gabriel’s throat, and Gabriel had managed to knee him hard in the stomach.

They came crashing to the ground just a minute later, but it wouldn’t be enough to kill an angel or a demon. They were both back on their feet in an instant, dashing towards each other like they truly, stupidly meant to fight on the ground, with the firsts, wings furiously beating on behind them.

Crawly landed the first hit, a solid punch right to Gabriel’s jaw. The bone should have shattered under the force, but Gabriel looked like it hadn’t even _hurt_. Instead, he used the sudden closeness to get his hands on Crawly and throw him into the dirt.

They could fight the rest of the day away. They didn’t need hearts; they didn’t need air. Even if there was a beat thumping on in Crawly’s head, it was of no _exhaustion_. He would have gladly spent his day pummeling his fists into an angel, kicking him down to the ground. Dragging him down to Hell, if it were possible. Gabriel could do exactly the same, and where he couldn’t block a hit, he always gave one back. There were bruises blooming, blood dripping down from cracked lips and broken noses.

Gabriel’s left eye-socket had all but shattered. Crawly’s cheekbone was in no better condition, the opposite side from an opposite throw. Neither of them could outmatch the other. Neither could get close enough for that decisive blow. Not with all the wings and grabbing and heavy panting that there was; they were fighting a battle that neither of them could ever win. Neither of them had ever just fought with their _fists_ before, and in the tune of broken knuckles and shattered fingers, it was looking to be a very undecided fight.

Then, the rain started. It was the first rain, and as such, it started with just a few droplets. More followed, and before either of them had time to realize what was happening, they had darted under the nearest tree—together—in hopes of not being caught in something that might not be what it seemed. It did seem just water, but it came from above. It could have been anything, right? To a demon, anyway. If it was Holy Water straight from the heavens, Crawly couldn’t have ventured a step in it. But under this tree, they were both relatively safe.

Crawly collapsed down into the grass, against the trunk of the tree, and tried to catch his breath. He could already feel all of his bones attempting to snap back into place and the cuts on his face and hands attempting to heal. What wasn’t going to go off so easily was this sudden _thing_, a flash of fire. When he looked at Gabriel, he frowned. If there was the space under this tree, he might have pulled himself back up and continued their fight. He knew better when to stop something before it got out of hand. He didn’t want to be the one to find out if that was water or Holy Water.

“Didn’t you have a sword?” Crawly asked, then. “Flaming like anything, it was. If you had it, sure you could have bested me.”

Gabriel frowned down at him. “I gave it away,” he said.

Crawly felt that fire die, instantly. “You what?” he gawked.

“Surely, you saw what became of the humans. They were cast out for your little deed—”

“How do you even know it was me?”

“—and I’ve seen what’s beyond that wall. They needed it more than I did.” Gabriel folded his arms, then, in a gentle way like he was cradling a healing wound. “You’re the only demon I see, anyway.”

“It was me,” Crawly grinned. “Very proud of myself, by the way. Not so proud of you, seeing as how your back was turned the entire time. Pretty stupid, if you ask me.”

If Gabriel’s frown could have gotten worse, it would have. As it was, Crawly was already sure his face would freeze like that.

“Been lovely chatting with you.” Crawly waved. “Say we chalk that up to one win for the demons and move on, yeah?”

“That’s hardly what I’d call a victory—”

“Ta-ta,” Crawly grinned. The ground broke up beneath him, and he _sunk_ into it, of his own accord. Straight back to Hell with him, then, to where all the demons lived.

Gabriel would have loved to stomp the dirt in after him, but he dared not step on that same spot. It could have been a trick, for all he knew, one that would have bested him in a way that Crawly left the hole wide open, only basely covered with grass and dirt. Gabriel would not Fall today, and he would not Fall ever. No demon Crawly would see to that, pushing or not.

In the days that passed, Gabriel had lost sight of Adam and Eve. He hadn’t a clue if they would survive, out there, but he hoped that they would. He hoped that they would find a place for themselves and, in their newfound knowledge, perhaps create their own Eden. In the meantime, this Eden was strictly cut off to them. Gabriel had to begin repairing the hole that they’d been sent through, and it would be a tedious task. No help would be sent to Gabriel, and so it would also take _time_.

He did happen to find that he was provided with the tools to fix the hole, in the Almighty’s kindness, at least. Gabriel wasn’t about to spend his days figuring out how to make the holy stones that created the wall around Eden. He wasn’t about to spend his days trying to figure out how to put those stones up, either. With the given tools, however, it would be less time and more tedious; it was still better than the alternative. Gabriel’s one remaining hope was that tedious was _all_ this remained to be, and he would see no more of Crawly while he worked.

Crawly was, most likely, off in Hell getting all the praise and accolades that he deserved for the first real temptation. He’d doomed God’s favorite creation for the rest of time, and that was sure to come with a lot of _power_ on Earth. Wherever that power would take him, Gabriel would hope not to see him.

It had been fun, though. He had spared enough time on top of the wall to watch Adam face down his first beast with that sword, and Gabriel had found the whole thing a bit thrilling. Crawly’s fight had been just the same—all too thrilling. It wasn’t something that an angel should partake in, however, and therefore, he would not wish to actively partake in it again. If Crawly were to rise back up out of the sands and challenge him, however, and the safety of Eden, Gabriel would not _deny_ him said challenge. That just wouldn’t be right of him.

In the midst of his thoughts, musings, and stone hashing, there was a great light that shown down upon him. It was that same warm and wonderful light that had cast down earlier, only to deliver the awful news of Adam and Eve’s punishment. Gabriel could only hope that _this_ light didn’t bring the same thing with it, more bad news. If the Almighty had somehow already seen the things Gabriel was thinking, She certainly wouldn’t be too pleased with him. He’d already decided he would not Fall, and his own mind would not be the one to see to that.

“Principality Gabriel,” the voice said from the light. “I see you have done what I asked.”

“Indeed, your Holiness. I’m just finishing up with the patch job,” he said, dully, gesturing off to the half-filled hole in the wall.

“Gabriel,” She said, more suddenly, more sternly. “Didn’t I give you a flaming sword, Gabriel?”

Gabriel pursed his lips together. There was a thought, for him. Did he tell the Almighty that he’d given it off, or did he fabricate the best lie to his ability right there to his Maker’s face to tell Her that he’d set off somewhere while he worked. Angels weren’t exactly known for their ability to lie and learning how to lie would just be another step down the staircase. As he wasn’t quite sure where he stood on that staircase, Gabriel wasn’t about to chance another step down.

“I gave it to the humans, your Holiness,” he said, dryly. “It was in my charge to protect them that I thought to provide them with a way to protect themselves in the dangers they’ve been sent off to.”

There came silence.

There came silence to the point where the light disappeared, and the Almighty apparently had nothing more to say on the subject. Gabriel stood there, staring up at the sky with a dumb looked painted over his face, but he wouldn’t question what had just happened. If the Almighty had nothing more to say, then he wouldn’t press for more. It was always in pressing for more that things started to drop, and Gabriel wouldn’t be caught a Fallen by pressing for _more_.

Though, he wouldn’t be entirely ungrateful if it happened.


	2. Mesopotamia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyyyyyyy. More chapter. We just gonna poke thru all the fun lil times that happened and explore about it some more, ya know? Hoping to keep my characterization in line.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! Thanks so much to the people who commented on the first chapter <3 I know this is kinda a niche pairing, but I'm just gonna push thru until the world sees how good it is heuheu.
> 
> **Explicit Sexual Content at the end; Can be considered dubcon**

Crawly had found his place, after the first tempting of the humans, ironically, _with_ the humans. It had taken several years, several _generations_, but soon, the earth was crawling with them. In the meantime, he’d gotten his praises and accolades and cheers from the demons. Beelzebub hadn’t looked particularly impressed with what Crawly had done, but she had been the one to personally deliver Satan’s message that Crawly would get to continue his fun extravaganza on Earth.

Even for his invitation, Crawly would have found another way back up to the humans. They were so much more fun than a bunch of demons who were only just now starting to figure out what it was they were supposed to be doing. Crawly was the beginning of what they would spend the rest of eternity, it felt like, doing. Attempting to garner those human, mortal souls for themselves by following in Crawly’s great first act of _temptation_. Crawly was just going to have the unique privilege of staying on Earth.

Paperwork had happened soon after. Soon after being the third of fourth temptation Crawly had done, and maybe the first that another demon had tried. They figured it would best be time to keep track of what they were doing; Heaven wouldn’t be far behind in their blessings and the miracles once they found out what the demons were doing. Paperwork was Crawly’s least favorite part of it, but it least it meant that he was left to his own devices.

His own devices were particularly exciting, as they did involve not only tempting but fraternizing—with the humans, of course. As he was finding, humans were _wonderful_. They were clever, creative, and _very_ imaginative. Maybe there was a thing going around that demons didn’t have imaginations, but that was only because angels didn’t have them either. They didn’t lose imagination in the fall; it was just something they’d never had. Adam and Eve hadn’t even had it, until the fruit.

Now, Crawly was _living_ with these people. They were wonderful and vibrant and lively. They danced and they fucked, and they drank. They did other things, too. Things that Crawly found particularly interesting. They created _more_ of them. Crawly had learned what babies were, what toddlers. He learned that they were much less durable than the adult humans, and some of them didn’t make it past infancy. That was when Crawly learned that humans could be sad, too.

There was so much of them. There was a gentleness to them, in the privacy of their homes. Some of it made no sense, but Crawly had only had a hand in about half of it. Girls were given off as property, and Crawly hadn’t had a thing to do with it. Maybe another demon, maybe angels, but there was such a strength in the way they would resign themselves. Crawly found he liked them more than he liked the men who gallivanted around boasting greatness in things that weren’t so great, but they were all happy in their own merits.

They loved. They hated. They fought. They died. They lived. And they lived _well_. Crawly enjoyed the parts where they lived. Even if their lives were short, they _lived_. That was something Crawly would never get to experience, not int he same way. It was hard for an immortal thing to live int he way that people did, but they were so wonderful. The liveliness. The drinking. The merriment. It was the first time Crawly had wanted to do more than just _watch_ and _tempt_. He wanted to dance with them.

He _did_ dance with them. It was such a night of frivolity that Crawly couldn’t help but drag himself in with the wine, the mead, the _people_. Oh, he loved the people. They’d invented music. They’d invented that fine, wonderful dancing music that Crawly would spend the rest of his life listening to, he thought. Even if they couldn’t dance. Even if Crawly couldn’t dance. They _still_ danced together, hands clasped, loud loving whoops as they twirled each other around.

There were those who didn’t care to join into the fun, lively nights, but they were unimportant. Nobody gave a thought to them, for how much more important the time of living was. So many humans were beginning to understand that life was short and should be _lived_—Noah and his budding family were just tarts all in comparison. They never joined in the fun, and nobody wanted them too. Nobody paid a _mind_ to them, not on nights like this.

Crawly had a lovely lady in his arms, with thick dark hair rung in curls all around her face. Her skin was dark and shined like gold in the fires, her eyes just the same. She looked at Crawly like he was everything, and maybe he was. She wouldn’t live to be older than twenty years, Crawly knew. This would be the most exciting night of her life, and she’d chosen to spend it with _him_.

Even when the lights died down and the music stopped, she’d wanted to spend her night with Crawly. He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. She batted her little eyelashes at him and told him how she knew what kind of a man he was—kind. He’d be nothing like the man she was to wed and give the rest of her years too. As long as nobody knew, it would be fine. Crawly would make sure nobody knew, especially if meant he got to pull her robes from her body and run his hands down the smooth curves of her, over her hips to her thighs where she begged that he take her.

It was the first time Crawly had ever laid with _anyone_, let alone a human, and he realized just why this was such a great temptation. He thought it might even be a temptation great enough for the stuck-up angels of Heaven, if they knew what the humans could do. Crawly had just copied a look, but he figured with _practice_, which he intended to have, he’d be everything he was and more. All on his own.

The issue didn’t rise up until about a decade later, when word got around that Noah and his family were all together in the middle of nowhere, building a _boat_. Most people kept on about their current ways, Noah and his family be damned. Crawly had been interested, but in the end, it was just the bones of a boat that they had. It was a large boat, but it was just a structure. It didn’t mean anything other than Noah and his family were sticks as they’d always been, never inviting themselves to partake in fun and temptation.

If Crawly hadn’t such a time with the people so _open_ to temptation, he might have taken on a challenge of tempting Noah, his sons, or maybe their wives. Crawly had found he didn’t care precisely what form of a person he would spend a night with, and it might be doubly fun to tempt a son, if it were to be such a taboo thing among the humans. Crawly didn’t care, though. He liked the humans, and he wanted to stay with the humans. Noah and his family could build on that boat every day and every night, if they so desired.

And they did.

It was on one very specific day that there was a crowd outside of that boat, because it wasn’t just bones, anymore. It was a boat. A true, large, monstrous thing of a boat. Noah and his family hadn’t just built a boat, they intended to fill it. Not with people, though. Not with their fellow man and woman and child. With _animals_. Crawly had watched them begin their march of animals, two by two, into the ark. And that was when he saw Gabriel.

“Should have known you’d be involved with the biggest killjoys,” Crawly drawled, approaching Gabriel from the side and leaning his elbow into him, immediately.

Gabriel regarded him with a heavy frown and jolted the touch away.

“Nice to see you too,” Crawly rolled his eyes. “What’s up with this, anyway? Big boat, and all. The animals. Seems a bit dramatic for the whole _nothing__’s happening_, bit.”

“You only think that because you like what’s happening. The Almighty isn’t very _happy _with these people.”

Rightfully, She shouldn’t be. Crawly was living with them and using temptation after temptation after temptation. Some of the things they did, a temptation was not even required! They were really quite wonderful, these people.

“What’s She up to, then?” Crawly had to ask. Not just because he was curious, because it was _funny_ to watch the way Gabriel grimaced and shifted uncomfortable for every syllable he spoke, like Crawly’s voice was grating and awful. Crawly hoped it was. He hoped Gabriel hated it.

“She’s sending a storm, if you must know. She’s going to wipe them all out.”

That stopped Crawly’s perky little grin. “All of them?” He asked.

“Not everyone. Just this lot, awful as they’ve been. They’ve all forgotten themselves for a life of _sin_, which I believe you’ve had everything to do with.” Gabriel looked at Crawly with a half-baked grin that said he was _happy_ to know that this was Crawly’s fault. An implication that the storm would be too.

“God isn’t unhappy with any other of the humans on Earth, you know,” Gabriel continued. “Just these ones. You can thank yourself for that. She’s not even mad at all of them.” Gabriel gestured up to Noah and his family, loading more animals on their boat. “Noah and his family will be fine. They were given plenty of warning about the coming flood, and as they still care for their Lord, they heeded it.”

Crawly blew out a very rough breath through his nose. “Everyone else, though?” he asked. When he looked off to the side, he saw children playing. They were chasing after a goat that hadn’t been chosen for a ride on the boat. “Even the kids? You can’t kill kids.”

“We _aren__’t_ killing kids,” Gabriel said, roughly, like the implication had offended him. “The flood will do that. The Almighty’s hands are clean, Crawly, always. As are the angels.”

Crawly snorted. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

“They wouldn’t even _be_ in this mess if you hadn’t been tempting them. It’s as I said—you’re nothing but trouble. You can’t judge the Almighty for attempting to clean up a demon’s mess.”

Crawly didn’t even have a response for that. Gabriel looked visibly uncomfortable, as if the entire conversation had put him off. He was deflecting blame and trying so hard not to, because he must have had the sense enough to know that people were just people, and it was wrong to wipe them off for choices they’d been created to make. If God hadn’t wanted humans to make choices, She wouldn’t have made them the way that She did. She would have just made herself more angels, slightly less immortal.

Gabriel must have known it was wrong. Hypocritical. And people would always be people, a flood or not. These people would drown, and the ones that took their place would be no more loyal or obedient while they still had the choice to not be. This was just a show of power. That’s all this was. A show of favoritism and power, God’s pass time.

“You can stand there and act all holier-than-thou,” Crawly snorted, “but it takes a bigger man to say he knows something is up.”

Gabriel didn’t respond to that. He just folded his hands in front of him and continued to watch as Noah and his family loaded the boat with animals. Crawly, in the resounding silence, disappeared off back into the crowd. The rain would start soon; Crawly didn’t know that, exactly, but he had an inkling that there was a time limit looming over his head. He wished Gabriel had sense enough to see something was wrong, to help, but that was nothing more than a wish. Crawly would have to do this on his own.

The good thing about living with the humans, as he’d done for so many generations now, was that Crawly was beginning to learn about them. He was beginning to understand their ways and their imaginations, what exactly it was that grabbed their attention and talked them into doing things. Maybe he would have to use a temptation or two, but he would be able to do this no matter what. All he had to do was make sure nobody had noticed, and that was the easiest thing of all.

Minor miracle, no one would see his plan.

With a wish of looking as unseemly as possible and the smallest bit of temptation, for added affect, Crawly squatted right in front of that group of kids and their chased goat. Children were a particular type of neutral; temptation didn’t work so well on them, while they were young and new. That’s why he had to _look_ the part as much as he talked the part, because he had just the idea to get them where he wanted them: safe. Adults were a dime-a-dozen, but children were special. Children would grow up to be anything, and as they hadn’t yet, it meant they weren’t anything.

Children hadn’t been a part of the mass frivolity and drinking. They were innocent. They’d always been innocent. That was the one thing that had Crawly sure that this wasn’t the Almighty raining down divine punishment, that it was just a show of power. She would have known that children were innocent, and She wouldn’t have _drowned _them if this was really about a punishment. He could already hear Gabriel explaining it away as insurance for the future, _preventing_ them from becoming just like their parents.

Crawly knew it was garbage.

“You know where the real fun’s at, don’t you?” he spoke to them. They all stopped and stared at him. “It’s in the bottom of that big boat,” he continued.

Crawly looked no different than any of the people. He’d always made sure of that. The problem was always his eyes; he could hide them well enough from _adults_, but children were not nearly as stupid. He just hoped that the rest of him, disguised for the moment as a younger man with only fun in mind, would be enough to convince them that he meant no harm, no trick.

“What’s in the big boat?” one of the taller boys asked.

“Lots of animals,” Crawly said. “They’re bigger, too. Much more fun than this old goat. You guys tired her out, you did.”

“More animals?” a short little girl asked.

“Yes, more!” Crawly spread out his hands to show just the _size _that they would see. “Lots of good places to hide, too. Have you ever tried out that game?”

“What game?” another boy piped up.

“So,” Crawly started, getting in close to them, “we pick one of you, alright? We could even pick me, if you’d like me to show you how the game works. The rest of you find the _best _place to hide that you can, and the last one to be found is the winner.”

The kids all looked at each other.

“And we hide in the boat?” one asked.

“Precisely, yes. You’re a clever little one,” Crawly applauded. “Nobody will even see you go in, and then we’ll play the game. How’s it sound?”

The children agreed in loud whoops and hollers. All they had to do was get in there, and Crawly would do the rest. He would make sure they had food and clothes and water. Hopefully, when the flood died off, they would have people willing to take care of them. Surely, there were people still that kind lurking around. Angels had to be worth some slight of a damn, after all.

All it took was a snap of his fingers, and the children were covered while they all dashed into the boat. Crawly would follow them, find them, and another snap would put them to sleep for the night. They would forget about him, ride out the storm, and everything would be fine. Fine was all he could hope for.

After a few _more_ waves of magic, he’d prepared everything they would need in the boat, tucked away in a low corner where Noah and his family wouldn’t find it. A bit of more magic would keep them hidden. Crawly was just beginning to feel tired. But it was something he felt he had to do. Something righteous. Something important. Something that was, thankfully, done before the rain began.

Once the rain began, Crawly had to figure his own way onto the ark. It would have been easy enough to just go off somewhere else and forget about the storm. He could go to China, to Australia, or even to Mexico. He could even go back to Hell, if he wanted. He’d already invested too much of his energy into saving these children to not see them through to the end. That, and he was sure that Gabriel wouldn’t be going too far. He seemed too proud of the senseless murder his Almighty was perpetrating to leave before he’d seen it through.

What a very particular demon thing to do. Crawly would never say that out loud, though. Not if Gabriel was anywhere nearby. He _did_ want Gabriel nearby, however, because he was angry. He was angry that Gabriel had the audacity to try and defend this flood, the senseless death. The senseless _murder_. Crawly would be angry until he wasn’t, and he wouldn’t be angry once he’d taken it all out on Gabriel.

Gabriel hadn’t exactly approved of the Almighty’s plan, but he was in no place to judge it or to bother it. It was ineffable, he’d always been told, and he had been _told_ on several occasions. It was Aziraphale’s favorite word, and Gabriel was beginning to hate it. He was beginning to hate how much of a comfortable removal it was, too. When he’d been told of the plan, the four Archangels gathered together to tell him what news he had to bring and what would happen, that word had popped up time and time again.

_It__’s ineffable, Gabriel. _Aziraphale had said it like that meant everything was fine. _We can__’t judge the Almighty_.

That’s exactly what he’d told Crawly. They can’t judge the Almighty. The Almighty lived above them all, with a set of different rules. If only because she was the one who made the rules, there was no way that she could break them. Gabriel had found solace in _ineffable_, because it meant that he could wipe his hands clean of it all and move on, without a care in the world. Except he did care, and it sucked. He wouldn’t say anything outright, and he wouldn’t speak it to the Almighty, to his _superiors_, but he would think it.

Crawly hadn’t been the only one to live among the humans. Gabriel wasn’t yet fond of them, and he surely didn’t understand them, but he had seen as much good as he had bad. It _did_ seem a bit dramatic to do away with them. Maybe it would be for the best, though. Humans would drive Gabriel to temptation faster than any demon would, and he feared that would be the way that he Fell.

Gabriel had _seen_ everything, and he couldn’t help but think about everything, too. He was sure it was everything that Crawly had immersed himself in over the past generations, the hundreds of years. Gabriel had even seen Crawly immerse himself in it, the temptation, the dancing, and the living. Gabriel had done what he’d been told and lived out his time on Earth under the orders of his superiors. With _the good_ humans. The humans who hadn’t fallen into temptation.

How all of it just left a sick taste in his mouth. He hadn’t needed Crawly to come up and act so friendly, like all of his distaste for the Almighty and Her way was understandable and second nature. He acted as if his thoughts were just thoughts that Gabriel should share, on principle. The worst part was that there was a part of Gabriel that _agreed_.

He and Crawly had met once before this, though it had been under different circumstances, and Crawly didn’t seem to much care that it had happened. They’d fought, out in the middle of the desert, and Gabriel had won. He’d meant to make his revenge for what had happened in Eden, but it didn’t seem to have worked. Crawly hadn’t even mentioned it, and probably didn’t think of it. He didn’t seem like the type to dwell over a desert battle where Gabriel had bested him with nothing but a staff. But still.

Gabriel thought about it often. He had almost looked forward to it happening again, but Crawly hadn’t come at him with a sword or a spear or a staff. He’d come at Gabriel with words, and it was certainly a battle that Crawly was on his way to winning. Gabriel hadn’t wanted to give him the chance to win this battle, because he wasn’t even sure if Crawly had done him the honor of acknowledging that this _was_ a battle. It had to be. Crawly had walked up and just challenged everything that Gabriel believed.

It was awful. Gabriel hated it. He didn’t _like _thinking that he was wrong, and then he’d watched what Crawly had done with the children, and it felt like a stab in the back. Crawly wouldn’t just judge the Almighty, but he would actively work against her. It wasn’t even a good thing to do, theoretically speaking. The Almighty wanted those children dead, which meant saving them was a pure act of demonic ire. How awful it was to live in a moment where saving lives was _demonic._

Gabriel wanted nothing to do with it. He would march his way onto that ark to face Crawly off. He should have just gone back to Heaven. He should have disappeared to report his success to the Archangels, but his own inner anger wasn’t going to let him. He shouldn’t have even _felt_ anger, but Crawly was grating at the back of his mind. Awful. Horrible. _Free_.

Crawly had been right. This was something that sounded a demon’s doing. But it wasn’t. It had come straight from the Almighty, and it was the demon who was doing the right thing in saving the lives of innocents. And it made Gabriel _angry_. He would never waver in his belief of the Almighty. He just wouldn’t do anything, anymore, to actively help this murder along. Being a neutral bystander maybe wasn’t the best choice, but he wanted his hands clean in more than just a deferral of blame. It wasn’t fair, otherwise.

It wasn’t fair that Crawly could just do these things without second thought, either. Gabriel wondered if he’d done that as an angel, but he wouldn’t think too long about it. He didn’t want to think about Crawly in any light that might make him _like_ Crawly. Gabriel wouldn’t like Crawly. He wouldn’t _think_ of Crawly, not after today. Not after he’d let this anger put him straight on an ark, where Crawly had hidden seven children away from their would-be demise.

When Gabriel found Crawly, it was with an angry grab on his arm to keep him from running off—he’d already done the deed. He’d saved the children. The rain was starting. The children had everything they needed to survive through the storm, and the oldest would wake up to take care of the rest of them. Gabriel could see that kindness in the oldest boy, and Crawly’s damnable actions had only _stoked it brighter_. Gabriel wanted to be angry, so he was. He was furious.

“Don’t think you’ll get away with this,” Gabriel sneered.

Crawly wrenched his arm out of Gabriel’s hold and looked at him, wide-eyed and dumbfounded. “Really? Curse the demon for saving some kids? Yeah, right. Real demonly thing I’ve gone off and done. Pretty sure it’s _angels_ who save kids.”

“You’ve gone against the Great Plan. If this wasn’t supposed to happen, the Almighty wouldn’t have done it.”

“First off,” Crawly growled, “I’m a _demon_. I got kicked out of the Great Plan the second She decided asking questions signed you off the nice list for eternity, yeah? Let’s get that part straight. I’m no special little angel with a perky arse and _God__’s Favorite_ plastered on my forehead.”

“Excuse _me_?” Gabriel gawked.

“_Oh, you went against God__’s plan_,” Crawly mocked, his hands in the air. “If God’s plan involves the mindless murder of children, I think I should be crowned, instead. Don’t think even _people_ are all for killing some kids, no matter how bad they get.”

Gabriel couldn’t even fathom what was angry about, anymore. Crawly made _sense_, and he hated it. He wouldn’t _let_ Crawly make sense. He wouldn’t let Crawly win this—the Almighty was always right. This was Her world, Her plan, and Her people. She had the _right_ to do with them as She pleased, and She’d made the right decision. She couldn’t make a wrong decision.

Because She’s making the rules, Crawly would say. Gabriel wouldn’t let him say it.

“You’re detestable,” Gabriel growled. “You speak against the Almighty as if you know Her, as if you’re greater than Her. We can’t judge the Almighty, Crawly—”

“She judges me plenty well,” Crawly responded, dryly. “I can see why you’re the favorite though, look at you. God’s perfect little lap dog, you. Always doing what Mommy says, yeah? You bend over for Her too?”

“Crawly!” Gabriel reached out for him, grabbing him by the fabric of his robes and pushing him into the crates. “You vile, disgusting creature! How dare you speak about the Almighty like this—”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Crawly raised his hands in faux surrender. “She’d tell you _not_ to, wouldn’t She. Doesn’t let you angels have any fun, and then the rest of us have to wonder why you’re all stuck up fucks.”

Gabriel frowned.

“God says you can’t save kids, so we don’t save kids. What else she tell you that you can’t do? Does she tell you can’t drink?”

Nothing.

“Can’t eat? Can’t dance? What—are you not even allowed to _enjoy _the things She made? Does she say you can’t fish or hunt or pluck flowers?”

Nothing. Gabriel wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing.

“I can do all that,” Crawly drawled. He peeled Gabriel’s hands away from his robes and straightened himself out. “I can do _so much _that you can’t. It’s so freeing, you know, not to have to listen to that prude arse of a thing up there telling everyone what’s right and wrong. Who’s She to decide it, hm? Because it’s _Hers_?” Crawly snorted. “She makes all these good things and won’t even let you use them.”

Gabriel frowned. He gripped his hands into fists and tried to ignore the way that Crawly was looking at him, the way he inched closer. Gabriel should have _felt_ the magic in Crawly’s stare. He should have done something about it.

“She even makes you,” Crawly said, a bit softer. “Makes you and won’t even let you have fun. I know what’s on the long list of things you can’t do, and I bet _sex_ is on it. Now, yes, it’s an _effort_ to join in, isn’t it? Not like you don’t want that, though.”

“Crawly—” Gabriel tried to warn.

“You’ve seen the humans do it, I know you have. You probably watched Adam and Eve just for fun. Probably dreamed all about how that’s not something you’re _allowed_ to do, because you have to be a good little angel. Always do what Mommy says.”

Gabriel could feel the fight dying in him. He should have known better. Temptation didn’t work if there wasn’t anything to draw on already; that’s why children couldn’t be tempted. The problem was that Crawly was _right_; he was peering right through Gabriel’s eyes and picking him apart, piece by piece, and it would _work_, as long as Gabriel stood there. Gabriel hadn’t moved.

“Problem is,” Crawly said, stepping closer, “you’ve been a bad angel. I can tell. We demons are good at that. You guys go around sniffing love, and for what? Doesn’t make you anything. Me? I can _feel_ it, Gabriel,” he said, his voice low, poking his finger right in the middle of Gabriel’s chest. “I can feel what you’re thinking.”

Whatever Crawly was doing had already worked. The first real temptation of an angel, and Hell would never see the paperwork. Crawly would keep this moment to himself, watching the way that Gabriel’s eyes sort of died, before him, and his face went red.

“Crawly,” Gabriel tried. “_Please_, shut up.”

Crawly chuckled something dark, all to himself. “_Make me_,” he growled. And Gabriel did nothing. He wouldn’t give into anger, to the urge he had to fight.

But when Crawly moved first, it was just defense. They tumbled about the room, to themselves, when Crawly lurched forward. Gabriel wouldn’t let him win, even if they had to _fight_ for it, but Crawly’s magic was already soaked right down into his bones, and it was so _easy_ to wrench him around like he was nothing. That was nothing to say that Gabriel didn’t fight back—and he _did._ His wings suddenly unfurled in their great, purple glory to try and beat Crawly off of his back.

Crawly just grabbed them, right from where they sprouted out of Gabriel’s back, and used them as leverage to push Gabriel to the ground. To his hands and knees. And it was like he was frozen there, with his face towards the ground in a wretched taste of the way Crawly would do what he wanted, now.

“I know what you want,” Crawly whispered. Gabriel didn’t so much as budge when Crawly ripped his robes straight down the back. “You dream about this, Gabriel, and I’m going to just keep up my pluck of _nice_ things and give you exactly what you want.”

“I don’t—” Gabriel tried, but if he didn’t, he would have been able to move. He wouldn’t have been so _tempted_. Was it temptation that held him in place or was it this innate desire that Crawly could smell that kept him in place, as Crawly’s hands dragged down over the bare skin of his back.

“You do,” Crawly drawled. “You watched how the humans fell in with each other. I know, because I watched them, too. You _dreamed_ about it. You dreamed about _me_.”

Gabriel tried to struggle—he wouldn’t admit to that. He _hadn__’t_ dreamed about Crawly, like that. If he had, it wasn’t on purpose. Crawly was the only connection he had; it was _natural_—wasn’t it? Even if Gabriel was an angel? He shouldn’t have had these thoughts to begin with, but Crawly plucked them each and one out of his mind in perfect tact, accuracy.

“You, you, you,” Crawly said, a bit fondly. “You’ve got it all stashed up in there. I can see it. You just were never sure what to _do_ about it.”

There was suddenly a rush of cold and _wet_ that had Gabriel gasping, struggling to get away again. Crawly had spread him open with one hand, and, with the other, spread something cold down between his cheeks, over his hole. This was _wrong_. Gabriel knew this was wrong—but Crawly just kept talking.

“You’ve watched the humans and wondered where we would be, didn’t you? You wondered if I might spread myself open for you and let you _fuck _me. Believe me, it’s a worthy thought.”

Gabriel bit down on his lip hard with Crawly reached between his legs to grab at his cock. By no rights should Gabriel have ever given into _making _one, but he’d wanted to, so badly. He’d never touched it, never used it, but Crawly’s hand squeezing around the thick base of it was making him regret that. His hips jerked at the sudden, new touch, and it was only for the blood forming under his teeth that he didn’t moan. He was hard, already, and it wasn’t _fair_.

Crawly jerked him off, leaning down over his back so he could whisper in his ear. “I know you’ve thought about it, what it would _feel_ like to shove this fat thing inside of me. You wouldn’t dare try it, though, would you? No, because I know what you _really_ want.”

“Un—unhand me, demon,” Gabriel tried, but his arms were like jello. When Crawly pushed him down in the floor, his arms gave out, and he groaned.

“I never realized I had an _audience _when I tempted those humans into my bed, but it must have been you. You wanted to be one of them, didn’t you? With your legs spread out like a common whore so you could _feel_ this. Don’t worry, Gabriel. I’ll make it so you can feel this for the rest of your _life_.”

Gabriel tried to struggle, but it was like the fight had drained right out of him. Every word Crawly spoke was just another reminder of the things Gabriel thought about. He _had_ thought about it all. He’d thought about the way it would feel to have Crawly on top of him, between his thighs, sinking into him like they were _lovers._ It was horrible—he should have never thought like this. Crawly was a demon, but Gabriel didn’t _like _the idea of falling into bed with random strangers. Crawly was the only one who wasn’t a stranger.

His mind had betrayed him just as much as his body did, now. When Crawly’s fingers moved over his hole, Gabriel opened right up for him. Gabriel closed his eyes tightly and tried to think of anything else, but it was _hard_, the way that Crawly moved inside of him. Crawly moved his fingers fast, spread out, and worked quickly to pull Gabriel open for him. Even if it was rough, even if it _hurt_, just slightly, Gabriel could feel the sway of his own prick between his thighs.

He was hard, dripping, _aching_ for release. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. But Crawly was whispering in his ear every fantasy he’d ever had, every moment he’d ever taken to himself to _imagine_ what this would be like. And all of those things, Crawly did.

He plucked it right out of Gabriel’s mind, the way he’d imagined Crawly touching him. With his free hand, Crawly touched him just like that. He smoothed his hand over Gabriel’s chest, tweaking and tugging at his hard, little nipple and _marveling_ at how Gabriel had chosen to go so far. Those weren’t things that angels had, either, but Gabriel had seen how good they could feel. Reacted just the same. And Crawly kept talking.

His touch worked down Gabriel’s abdomen, ghosting over the skin of his hips. Gabriel’s body reacted immediately, his hips moving on their own both ways. He tried to urge farther into Crawly’s touch, just as much as he wanted to fuck himself back on Crawly’s fingers.

“That’s it,” Crawly whispered. “I knew you’d like this.”

“_No_,” Gabriel gasped out, but Crawly’s fingers were moving over his pelvis in such a tantalizing little shape that he couldn’t help the moan he let out, his mouth already open. He shifted so he could bite down on his fist, but it was just more _proof_ that he was enjoying himself. He just didn’t want Crawly to know he was enjoying himself.

“I’ll make it better,” Crawly said. “I know you’ve been thinking about it—what my cock looks like. What it would be like inside of you. I found out pretty early that it was more natural to have two of them, you know,” Crawly said.

Gabriel suddenly went stiff on Crawly’s fingers, clenched up and tight from the sudden thought of that. He’d never imagined, and he didn’t want to. Crawly’s fingers kept moving, though, pressing up on that spot inside him that had him opening right back up. Gabriel couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes, and not from pain. There was so much pleasure building up inside of his body that he wouldn’t let himself _feel_ that something was bound to happen. Between the tears and the dripping of his cock, Crawly knew. Crawly always knew.

“I wouldn’t put you through that,” Crawly soothed.

He pulled his fingers from Gabriel’s arse and wiped the excess moisture on his skin, watching the way that he jerked.

“Not until you beg for it.”

Crawly slapped his hand down just to watch the way Gabriel’s rear bounced, the way that he bit down harder on his hand to keep from crying out. Then, Crawly’s cockhead was between his cheeks, Crawly rolling his hips to fuck himself along that crease. Gabriel’s body betrayed him when it shivered, when it leaned back into that touch.

He didn’t want this. He shouldn’t want this. He _couldn__’t_ want this.

But did he?

When Crawly pushed inside, there was no force on Earth that could have kept Gabriel quiet. He let out a _groan_, a long, drawn out one that he couldn’t quiet until he felt Crawly’s hips nestled up against his arse. Crawly had split him right open, made a place inside him for himself, where just the shape of him fit so right that Gabriel’s entire body cried out for more. He had never felt this much pleasure, but there was this burning coil in his pelvis that was threatening him.

“I promised I’d make this good,” Crawly muttered, this time, into his hair. The touch of his lips was _inviting_, and Gabriel almost wished that Crawly would turn his head so they could kiss.

He wouldn’t think that. Never again. Not loud enough for Crawly to find. If Crawly kissed him—

Crawly was suddenly moving. He’d grasped the sprout of Gabriel’s wings and used them as leverage, _forcing_ Gabriel to move with him, almost. Crawly could imagine that Gabriel was beneath him, trembling and whining for more as he fucked himself back to meet every hard thrust Crawly gave him. Gabriel could imagine that he didn’t want this, that he didn’t want to do exactly what Crawly wanted. He didn’t. He _didn__’t_.

Then, Crawly was letting go of one of his wings to reach around him and grab at his cock. Gabriel groaned into the impressive bite he’d left on his own arm, now, and tried to ignore it. But Crawly worked his cock just as fast as he fucked, with just as much friction and determination. He would see Gabriel off on this, and he would feel _victorious_. There was nothing greater than tempting an angel, and no demon had ever done it. No demon would ever do it. And as far as the paperwork would say: no demon ever had.

Gabriel didn’t know that. He didn’t know that this was a moment Crawly intended to keep to himself, forever, and he dreaded the alternative where Crawly would be praised and crowned something evil for his deeds. It was the only thing he could think about to ignore the pleasure building up inside of him, how _good_ he felt. How much he wanted this, every thrust of Crawly’s hips, every jerk of his hands. Gabriel closed his eyes tight and tried not to think about the hold on his wing, Crawly’s touch.

_God_, there was nothing that would keep him from that thought. Crawly was everywhere, all around him, inside of him, _taking care_ of him. Crawly worked until his rhythms began to falter, until all he could do was squeeze just under the head of Gabriel’s cock and fuck into him once, twice—and Gabriel came with a sudden shout. He shot out in thick strands of his first orgasm, and Crawly must have known that. Gabriel could _feel_ the way Crawly leaned into his back and grinned into his skin.

“Told you,” Crawly muttered.

When he pulled back, Gabriel was left empty. He collapsed down onto the ground, where he hadn’t realized there was a bit of bedding and closed his eyes to just listen. Crawly had gripped his own cock and started to fuck it through his fist, his free hand still pressing down over Gabriel’s back to _remind_ him that he was there. That he’d done this. It was only when Crawly came across the spread of Gabriel’s back that it really hit home, but it all ended just as fast.

Crawly collapsed down to the floor, leaning against the wall where he sat near Gabriel’s head, but they didn’t look at each other. Gabriel was facing the opposite direction, and he didn’t want to see the satisfied grin on Crawly’s face. He didn’t want Crawly to see his own satisfied look. He didn’t want Crawly to know he’d _enjoyed_ that.

“I think that’s a win for me,” Crawly said. “Maybe a win for both of us, hm?”

Gabriel didn’t respond. He _really_ didn’t respond when Crawly reached out to card his fingers through Gabriel’s hair. It felt nice, and he wouldn’t admit it.

“You ever get too deep, you just come to me,” Crawly said. “Nothing quite like an ounce of deniability, yeah?”

Gabriel closed his eyes and pulled down just enough power that his report would read _miracle used to clean corporation_ instead of what he’d actually done, which was erase Crawly’s spend from his skin. Crawly made it sound like he’d done all that for Gabriel’s benefit. If the Lord or the Archangels ever found out, Gabriel would have the defense of Crawly had forced him, of he’d been tempted. He’d tried to fight back. He would never have to admit that he’d wanted it as much as Crawly had said, and maybe Crawly _had_ done it for him.

Gabriel didn’t want to know, either way.

They waited out the storm on the ark, just like the rest of the people. The rainbow came, as did God’s promise to never drown the world again. None of it rang particularly true, and Crawly was sure that it wasn’t going to mean anything. How could it? People were just people, after all.


	3. The Time of the Lord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY ANOTHER CHAPTER gosh. 
> 
> This one gave me some trouble, but I think I finally beat it into submission. This is pretty heavily based in Catholic teachings, as a heads up. It still makes for a good story, I think.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy! Please tell me what you think in the comments! It really helps <3

Just as Crawly had predicted, humans were humans were humans. God could try all she wanted to wipe them off the earth when they didn’t bow to Her particular whim, but they would never be any different than the way that She’d made them. Her second plan, therefore, wouldn’t be quite so drastic. It hadn’t worked, even in the slightest, so She was about to try some of that positive reinforcement that humans had made up—all on their own, apparently.

Gabriel had gotten called back up to the Head Office for, it even. The big news. God had intended a different path than She’d taken originally, and that was supposedly the big moment of apology—better than Her foolish little Rainbow. Not, of course, that She’d actually said anything about it like that. It had been the implication, however. One that no one spoke about. It wasn’t as if God could actually feel bad about anything that She’d done, because She’d done it, and therefore, it was good.

That was always something of a lecture received, as if being on Earth would have Gabriel forget that God was good. He certainly hadn’t, and he would continue to spend his time on Earth spreading that and driving people towards it. This took precedence of everything. This big news. This was the incentive for the people to follow the blessings and the miracles, toward God and Her Almighty power.

“Now, that’s out of the way,” Aziraphale smiled. “I’m sure you’re wondering why we’ve called you up here, today. Very big news, we have.”

“The biggest news, indeed,” Sandalphon, who stood beside Aziraphale, grinned a snide little grin.

“It is perhaps the greatest piece of news we’ll ever deliver,” Uriel chimed in.

“That Gabriel will deliver,” Michael corrected. “I would hope even better news should come somewhere down the line, when we’re finally able to triumph over the evil of Hell.”

Gabriel offered a strained smile. “Of course. Just what is this _news_, then?”

“Yes, of course. The big news.” Aziraphale gestured out wide with his hands. “The Almighty plans to send Her son to Earth, to be born of the human Mary. We’d like _you_ to deliver the news to her.”

“Me?” Gabriel sounded almost shocked.

“Yes, you,” Uriel nearly rolled her eyes. “The Almighty believes that you know these people the best, so you’ll be able to deliver this message as delicately as possible.”

“Not a message to be taken light, you know,” Sandalphon added. “Humans being what they are, she might not take it as well as we’d hoped.”

“If she believes in the Lord,” Aziraphale reminded, “she’ll take it as well as we intended.”

Gabriel nodded and offered a shallow, half-hearted little bow. “This is a great honor. I’ll be sure to deliver this message with care.”

“To be delivered immediately,” Aziraphale added like an afterthought he’d forgotten about. “Immediately, and best do it as an angel, you know,” with more vague hand gestures. “We want her to believe that this came from the Lord, you know. All of that divine power.”

That was it, then.

Gabriel would follow his orders to the perfect execution, in which he would, in fact, show himself to Mary in the angelic form he’d been created as. The body, of course, had come later. He’d return to it, too. It was comfortable, and it made it much easier to walk around Earth when he looked like one of them. That, and Gabriel intended to fulfill his mission beyond that of which he’d been told. He wouldn’t just give Mary her good news, but he would find his own place in the area so that he could watch after her and her new, budding family.

It wasn’t the first time Gabriel had done an almighty angel appearance. He’d done it a few times before, explaining visions and dreams and such that God Herself had sent down to people. This was much bigger than that, even if it was much the same. Gabriel wasn’t entirely a _fan_ of these angelic appearances. It was a tedious thing to time just right, and there was something to be said for how humans reacted in the sight of an angel, especially an angel like Gabriel.

Maybe he wasn’t the most powerful angel, but humans weren’t aware of the hierarchy in Heaven. They would see what he was and be afraid, and Gabriel wouldn’t blame them. He expected Mary to respond the same way—and she did. Gabriel had a head without eyes, a nose, a mouth. His body was long with six arms, two legs. It was only humanoid in a vague shape, a vague idea of what a body should look like. It was like he had no depth, and yet, he could be seen from all angles. He glowed with a sort of light, and all around him, his wings spread out in purple and white.

As all humans did, Mary shrieked when she saw him, standing there before her. She stumbled back and nearly fell, and if not for the miracle at Gabriel’s hand, she might have hit the ground. She landed on air, and Gabriel had her on her feet once more. And in the aftermath, she caught her breath and stared at him. The stories to be written later would make the whole fiasco sound much more pleasant and graceful than it was, where Mary had gripped around her robes in an attempt to ground herself from a near heart attack.

“Don’t be afraid,” Gabriel said. “I bring you a message from God.”

“A message from—pardon?” Mary looked at him and took no comfort in words that were supposed to do just that, comfort her.

“A message from God. You are to carry Her child, to bring salvation to all people.”

“A child—I don’t understand.” She curled her hand protectively over her stomach. “I’ve never, no. I’m engaged, but I have not married. I’m not to be married until I return to Nazareth.”

“This is no act of a mortal. You have been chosen to bring the world’s salvation to it.”

Mary released the grip she had on her robes and stared over Gabriel. Angels had this air about them that made it difficult not to trust them. It would be difficult to ever believe that this thing in front of her wasn’t telling the truth, regardless, given how Gabriel looked. But still, Mary was no fool. She shook her head and tried to gather herself, once more.

“Is there even a choice in this matter? What of Joseph—what am I to do if I return to Nazareth and they find that I’m pregnant? The punishment is death!”

Gabriel raised one of many hands and might have offered a smile, if he had a mouth in this form. Instead, the feeling around him changed like a dull lighted aura. It felt and looked like serenity, and Mary seemed to breathe in the same rhythm that Gabriel glowed in.

“God has made plans for all of it,” Gabriel assured. He knew this by assumption alone. He was sure that, when he reported back his success, he would have to tell them how unhappy Mary was about the news. God would surely have something planned to keep Mary alive and well.

Mary didn’t look like she believed or trusted Gabriel. She was a stronger woman than any of the angels had planned for.

“You were chosen for a great honor: to bring the Lord’s son into the world, so that he may save all people. With his guidance, the Gates of Heaven will be open, and all people will be welcomed under the Grace of God. God does not play games with the universe, and She would not see you harmed before Her people are saved.”

“An honor,” Mary repeated, trailing off. It was an honor. It was only the shock that had her acting so recklessly, she was sure. “This must be a dream.”

“It is no dream, Mary of Nazareth. You will bear a child, and that child will be the son of God. You will call him Jesus.”

It was like the sealing of a contract. Mary nodded, and the message had been delivered. Mary would be pregnant at God’s will, and Gabriel would do his best to watch over her until her son was born. He would watch over Jesus in his youth, his adulthood, and until whatever plan God had in store would be fulfilled.

Before Gabriel could even think about fitting back into his corporation, he was right back at Head Office to give his report. Message delivered. Mary unhappy. Mission successful. He did take special care to express just how concerned Mary had been. There was so much about human culture that they, as angels, didn’t understand. The punishment for Mary’s condition would be death if something were to happen, and therefore, something had to be done.

It wouldn’t make sense to go to all that trouble to bring Jesus into the world only for it to never happen because Mary was stoned to death. Gabriel had to be an advocate for that, because he’d been down there. He knew more than the Archangels did, even if they would never admit to that. Mary would be with her cousin for three months, and when she returned to Nazareth for her marriage to Joseph, a local carpenter, it would be a miracle if Joseph did not turn her in.

That was the whole point of it then. A miracle.

“Seems to me that we do have an agent on Earth who could take care of that,” Aziraphale smiled. “Oh, and well you are, I am _quite_ enjoying learning about these humans.”

“Are you?” Gabriel looked a bit shocked. _He_ didn’t particularly care for learning about them.

“Yes! They are quite marvelous! You really should do well to send back more reports, you know. Just piled with information. Anything you can find.”

Gabriel grimaced. More reports. “Of course, Aziraphale.”

There would be no denying his superiors, after all. No matter how much Gabriel loathed the idea of having to learn more about humans just to write stupid little reports about it. But if that’s what Aziraphale wanted, that’s what he would get. Maybe Gabriel would carve a shortcut and just send him things from Earth. Books, scrolls, samples. It would be easier than the novel Aziraphale certainly would expect him to write, anyway.

It wasn’t easier. None of it was easier. On top of Gabriel’s angelic orders, already. The whole foster peace and good will and blessings, things. Prepare people for the coming of salvation. Whatever. He had Aziraphale’s orders to contend with, and it was a _mess_. It was a lot of work for one angel, who’d given himself an assignment to watch over Mary and her would be child. That should have taken preference, even if it wasn’t an official order from anyone.

Mary had since returned to Nazareth, and Joseph had understandably not taken her sudden news very well. She was pregnant. Three months pregnant. And trying to tell her betrothed that it was an act of God and the Holy Spirit—that an angel had visited her and bestowed this news upon her. Joseph hadn’t believed her, even if he’d _wanted_ to believe her. Oh, he’d wanted to believe her so bad. The look on his face was awful, at the news.

Joseph had only ever cared for Mary. He might have even loved her, truly, in a way that those arranged to marriage often did not. He believed in her good will, in her kindness, and that she would have never done anything to jeopardize their future together. Yet, she’d come back from her cousin’s home pregnant. He might have even just preferred she admitted to her heinous act than spill these stories about an angel having come visit her. As much as he wanted to believe in her story, he was struggling to find even the smallest bit that made sense, that added up.

He knew that if he told, Mary’s punishment would be death. If word got out about it, there would be no turning back. It was a sensible thing to do, for a man in this age, to reveal the crimes of the woman to be his wife. While Joseph didn’t actively disagree with the laws, he did care for Mary. Seeing her stoned to death was not something he was particularly keen on, but the war of doubt kept raging on in his mind. Gabriel would be the only thing to stand between it.

And nothing was working.

Gabriel had tried meeting him on a human level, talking to him in the streets through vague understandings and hypotheticals. It hadn’t helped. He’d tried visiting Joseph in his dreams, a true angel thing to do, to show him the power of the Lord, and that this was truly Her will. Something about it still did not work. Joseph had too much doubt in his mind to believe in the truth he was being shown, and it left Gabriel at a loss of what to do. He was running out of time to have Joseph on his side; if he failed, Mary would die, and Jesus with her.

In the meantime, at least he had something to _do_, while he mulled over his inevitable failure. They’d have him Fall for this; he was sure. His only saving grace would be that he was still faithful, in his failings. It’s what led him to this swill of a place at the edge of town, where people gathered to drink and dance to music. It was one of those things that Aziraphale wanted to learn about, and Gabriel wouldn’t be able to write a proper report about it if he hadn’t visited such a place.

While he was there, he figured a drink wouldn’t hurt. The humans had certainly had their clever way about the things of God’s creation; they’d made several things that even Gabriel didn’t mind consuming every once and awhile. Food wasn’t his favorite pass time. In fact, he’d rather have not ever had to eat anything at all. Sometimes, social graces called, and he had consumed _gross matter_ from time to time. Drinks were slightly different. Gabriel was always fine for a drink.

The problem was his sudden drinking companion. Gabriel had been alone when he first entered the place and had his drink, but he wasn’t so alone anymore. Try as he might, it was impossible to ignore those big, golden eyes staring at him from just the stool over, where Crawly was leaning into his hand and smirking something snide right down the tip of his nose, at Gabriel.

“Didn’t have you pegged for the type of guy to visit a place like this.”

“I’m _not_,” Gabriel retorted, a bit harsher than he ought have. He’d blame it on the alcohol and the itch in his body to throw Crawly on the ground and pummel him straight back to Hell. “I’m on assignment.”

“What kind of an assignment brings an angel to the scum of the town? Curious.” Crawly inched closer. Still smiling. “And he drinks,” Crawly mused.

“My _superiors_ want information about the humans. None of them will venture down to Earth on their own, so here I am. Working double duty,” Gabriel sneered.

“Double duty?” Crawly asked, eyes wide. He waved down for another round, the both of them. “Do tell me all about it. That sounds incredibly draining.”

Gabriel should have seen right through Crawly’s feeble attempt at socializing, but he was so strung up with all of the work that he was doing, he chose not to see past it. He _wanted_ to get it all off of his chest, and Crawly was offering him a way to do that.

“God has just sent down Her only son. It’s wonderful, really, only the woman She picked to be his earthly mother is _not_ married.”

“Rough plan on the Almighty’s part,” Crawly agreed.

“The woman is pious and faithful. She really is the best choice, but this has caused a whole slew of issues. If I can’t convince her betrothed to accept this as an act of God, she might face _death_.”

Crawly swirled his cup around before he took a drink, nodding the whole way through. “Now, we wouldn’t happen to be talking about Mary and Joseph, would we?”

Gabriel looked at Crawly with disbelief written over his face. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, we knew about that. Demons, I mean. Heard about the whole plan and hoped to stop it before it started. They, of course,” Crawly took a drink, “chose me to do it. I think I’m doing a rather fine job of it, too.”

“This is your doing, then. You’re the reason that Joseph won’t understand.”

A sly little grin bloomed over Crawly’s face. “Might be.”

Crawly expected that Gabriel would throw their drinks across the room and stand up to fight him. Crawly had been itching for a good fight, anyway. Since the last one they’d had in which he had certainly _not_ lost. This would just be a rematch, of sorts. Crawly was just doing his job, but if doing his job also meant that Gabriel would be a little mad, then it was icing on the cake.

Gabriel did not throw their drinks and start a fight. Gabriel dropped his head into his hands and let out the most pathetic groan that Crawly had ever heard. It wasn’t as if he and Gabriel hadn’t met up on accident before, through the years. This was not _usually_ how Gabriel acted. Usually, it was a fight. This looked like an angel, defeated, and Crawly couldn’t help but feel a bit bad, if he would dare say that out loud.

“You’re the reason this is so difficult—why am I not surprised? Trouble. I’ve always said you were trouble.”

“Gabriel—”

“You don’t even get it, do you? I’ve been working on this for _ages_, and if I can’t figure this out, Mary is going to die. I might even get in trouble—I can’t stand another lecture. I already had to _give_ one because Aziraphale couldn’t go five minutes without understanding the intricacies of a market, and _you__’re_ the reason for this?”

“Wait—Aziraphale? That stuffy old Archangel? And just how is this going to get you in trouble?”

Gabriel frowned. “I can’t _wait_ to tell that _stuffy old Archangel_ that the Earthly Mother of the son of God _died_ because I couldn’t overpower a demon.”

“I mean, it’s good for me—”

“And not for me! I could Fall for this!”

“This is the point of me, you know, being a demon and all. I’m supposed to thwart your Heavenly plans.”

Gabriel groaned and dropped back into his hands. He needed another drink. He needed _more_ than another drink. Another bottle. Mary was going to die because Crawly was going to let it happen—make it happen.

“I have never seen you like this before,” Crawly commented. “Gotta say, it doesn’t suit you.”

“And what does suit me, Trouble?” Gabriel muttered.

“Shouting, fighting, fist throwing. A few snide remarks here or there, you know?” Crawly sighed. “Feels a bit like I’m being unfair, doesn’t it? I mean, what could one son of God really do in the scheme of things?”

Gabriel looked up at Crawly. “What?”

“Give me ten minutes,” Crawly said, reaching out to pat Gabriel’s arm. “I know how much this whole angel business means to you. It’s fun to kick your perky arse, but it’s not fun to ruin your life.”

“Crawly—?” Gabriel thought to even _stop_ Crawly. If he couldn’t win of his own merit, what was the point? Crawly could also get in trouble for this. He could face the eternities in the deepest pits of Hell, for this. Still, he marched right out of the little tavern place.

Crawly knew exactly where to find Joseph at this hour, where he always was. He worked late into the night, and he didn’t live far from the little tavern place. All Crawly had to do was walk right up to him. It was always for a bit of dramatic flair; Crawly could have just done away with the doubt from his seat by Gabriel, but this was more fun. This made him feel a bit more vindicated, like Gabriel would be in his debt. That was something he could think about for a while.

Joseph wasn’t exactly an old friend of Crawly’s, but they could certainly talk like that. Crawly had that way about people, where they couldn’t _help_ but want to talk to him. It was to be a saying, later, that the devil came dressed as everything you wanted. Crawly was what a lot of people wanted—a friend, a lover, a rival. All he had to do was shine a smile and wave his hands, and Joseph agreed with him.

“You care about her, I know,” Crawly said. “You want to do your duty as a man, but isn’t there a duty also to protect the people you care about?”

Joseph had mulled that over.

“You’re the only one who knows she’s pregnant. Marry her, sweep her off her feet, and no one has to know. Plenty of time later to have more kids, you know. This kid’s going to be big. He’s gonna need a real strong father like yourself to get him on the straight and narrow.”

Joseph laughed. “You’re just trying to appeal to my better self.”

“Certainly am. This’ll be the kind of kid that runs off when you aren’t looking. Best to have a firm hand.”

“Even if he will truly be the son of God?”

“Especially then,” Crawly promised. A wave of his hands, and Joseph believed.

Then, Crawly made quick work back to the tavern. Exactly ten minutes had passed by the time Crawly sat back down, and their cups were refilled. Crawly took care of it, once more, and he grinned at Gabriel before they clinked cups. It was certainly a powerful moment. Crawly didn’t exactly feel like he’d won, though. He had just undone what would have been the greatest attempt of a demon’s life, and for what? For that silly little grin on Gabriel’s face as he raised his cup up?

No, that certainly wasn’t it.

Gabriel downed the cup in one swallow and thumped it back down to the table. He waited for a split second, then frowned directly at Crawly. That certainly hadn’t been expected, and Crawly’s laughter gave it away before Gabriel had even figured it out. It was the taste that led him on. The taste was entirely different, and Crawly had ordered the same drink.

“Really, Crawly?” Gabriel rolled his eyes. He acted quick with a miracle that would read _used miracle to cure poisoning_. “I expect better of you.”

“Can’t imagine why. I am a demon, you know. Besides,” Crawly laughed while he stood, “I couldn’t let you just go off thinking I was doing something good. Still have to make sure that I’m winning.”

Crawly made his leave, after that. It was a very spectacular leave, where Gabriel’s next report would read _used miracle to cause tripping_, as Crawly tripped on his way out the door. He’d land in a face full of mud, and Gabriel would enjoy knowing that this was a victory for him.

He’d spend the rest of the night in the tavern actually _enjoying_ those strange human things he thought he didn’t like. The food was awful. The drink was barely consumable. But the people and their music. Their dancing. Gabriel found that he enjoyed watching them flit about like that, all flailing limbs and happy smiles. He thought that he might even want to try it for himself. In hopes, of course, that he’d find that he hated it. It was all for the report, after all. Aziraphale wanted to know things.

It was exactly twelve years later before they’d seen each other again. It was in a marketplace, in Jerusalem. Gabriel had only come out this far because this was where Mary and Joseph had come, with Jesus trailing along like the curious boy that he was. Gabriel had been watching over him since the birth in Bethlehem. After, Gabriel had even crafted himself a lovely little home in Nazareth so he could continue to watch over him. In the close proximity, he had _met_ the son of God more than once.

Jesus was quite the fine young boy. He was hard-working for his age, with quite the sense of responsibility. Still, he had friends in the village and loved to spend his evenings playing games out in the cooling air. He was curious, too. He’d already begun to learn carpentry at Joseph’s side, and there was much else that he wanted to know. He’d met Gabriel for the first time in one of those expeditions for knowledge. Gabriel had ended up spending an afternoon explaining religious concepts far too complex for the age Jesus had been, and still, Jesus understood.

He remembered how horrified Mary had been to find out that Jesus had spent an afternoon bothering a neighbor, but Gabriel had laughed it off. Mary didn’t recognize him, and that was exactly how it was to be.

Things like that happened more than once, several times. Gabriel would find that he was quite _fond_ of Jesus. That seemed like the correct thing to feel, in that Jesus would certainly have an air about him. It came with the territory; people would flock to him and him and love him, if they opened their hearts to him. Gabriel always loved to watch it happen; it was like he could feel God’s Grace here on Earth—and he realized how much he missed it, too. Living in Heaven.

That was what brought him to Jerusalem. What brought Crawly to Jerusalem was absolutely unfathomable; as a demon, he should have known that tempting the son of God would be a futile effort. Still, Crawly was there. Crawly was there with long, curled and half braided hair, wearing long draped robes exactly like the women did. Nobody would blink twice about it, and certainly not Gabriel. The whole separation into female and male was still not something that angels or demons entirely understood, given that they were neither. Crawly could very well be whatever he wanted—just not in Jerusalem.

“Crawly,” Gabriel called out for him, “what in the Heavens are you doing here?”

“Shopping, isn’t it obvious?” Crawly grinned. “What are you doing here?”

Gabriel frowned. “Surely demons are made aware of _every_ move of the son of God, are they not? So, you can try to smite him down?”

“Harsh. I thought you would have learned by now that I don’t kill kids. I don’t care who their mom is.”

“Right.” Gabriel cleared his throat and straightened up his clothes. “Apologies.”

“No harm done. Besides, word around the street is you’ve grown pretty fond of the kid—speak of the devil,” Crawly grinned.

Jesus was headed _right_ towards them. Crawly wouldn’t have ever believed that this excitable child was the son of God, not if he didn’t know so already. Jesus looked and acted like any other child. At twelve, he even already had siblings. The stories wouldn’t talk about his siblings, but he had them and he cared for them. The youngest, a girl of only two, was strapped tightly around Mary’s chest while the five-year-old boy toddled in Joseph’s hold. Jesus, the eldest and most responsible, didn’t need to stay so close. They still should have been watching him.

Jesus nearly toppled right into Gabriel, the speed that he ran, but he came to a skidding stop right in front of him. The smile on his face was a wide, silly looking sort of thing, just like any child’s would be. Jesus wasn’t a stranger to Jerusalem, but it was always an exciting time to get to be here. Always an adventure, especially when he could so easily slip away from his parents. As Gabriel would attest, Mary and Joseph kept a tight rein on him.

“Gabriel!” Jesus called out for him. “What a thought, seeing you here!”

“Yes, yes,” Gabriel tried to calm him. “I’ve come to do some shopping today.”

“Oh, and who are you with?” Jesus looked over at Crawly with big, expecting eyes. “I didn’t know you were married.”

Crawly tried to stifle a laugh behind his hand, but he certainly didn’t correct Jesus. He couldn’t. If he moved his hand or opened his mouth, he would _certainly_ start laughing.

“Oh, no—this isn’t my wife. This is just some woman. Absolutely no one,” Gabriel insisted, attempting to stand firm about it.

“She’s not _no one_,” Jesus shook his head. “In the eyes of my Mother, all people are equal. They should be treated as such.”

“Oh, it’s fine, dear,” Crawly played up. “Gabriel’s just embarrassed. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

Gabriel shot Crawly a glare that told him, threateningly, _not_ to play into that. There was no helping it, though. Once that idea was out there, it was there. Crawly was going to think about it. _Gabriel_ was going to think about it—Crawly knew he was going to. Crawly had already proved once or twice that he could pull on things like that, when used wonderfully for a temptation. Jesus was certainly now going to believe that they were married, and Gabriel was just too embarrassed to introduce his wife.

Jesus decided to stay with them, for a time. He walked with them while Crawly was clearly the only one doing any sort of shopping. He talked with them, or Gabriel, in particular. Crawly didn’t have much to say to the son of God, being a demon. He was sure that Jesus would have known him immediately for what he was, and Jesus still tried to talk to him like he was any other person happy to be bothered by an exuberant twelve-year-old boy.

There were more than few passing people who assumed Jesus was _their_ child, and what an idea that would have been. As if a demon and an angel could even have one. As if, if they could, that child would be as wonderful and pure as Jesus was proving to be. His curiosity, his helpfulness. It was difficult to deny that he was the son of God, except for the fact that he was much like any other boy on Earth. He was a troublemaker, at heart, and had wandered off from his parents to follow Gabriel and Crawly around.

It had been near an _hour_ before anyone realized it.

“Jesus,” Gabriel said, “just where have your parents gone?”

“Oh,” Jesus looked around. “I hadn’t even realized. I’m sure they’ll find me.”

“How can you be so sure?” Crawly asked. “A cute boy like yourself? Why, what if someone snatches you up?”

“I’ll go to my Mother’s House,” Jesus decided. “It’s where they should expect me to be, anyway.”

The temple, he meant. He spoke of the temple in the square of Jerusalem, even as he eyed it. Most children his age were not incredibly excited to visit the temple and read from scriptures, but most of them also weren’t qualified to teach those scriptures. Once Jesus had hit eleven, it was like he was the greatest religious scholar to ever walk the earth.

“Run along, then,” Crawly urged. “I’m sure they’ll just be happy to find you.” And a little smirk. A smirk that Gabriel recognized.

Once Jesus _did_ run off, Gabriel turned to Crawly and folded his arms.

“Did you really just do that? Don’t pretend you didn’t—that’s your temptation face.”

“Oh, it’s all for the fun of it. Nothing bad will happen, I assure you. Shall we continue our shopping trip, oh husband of mine?” Crawly snickered to himself.

Alright. Gabriel would chalk this one up to Crawly’s win and think nothing more of it.

It was in the desert, that Crawly next saw Jesus. Jesus had grown up well and fine, to be just the picture of the son of God all had expected him to be. People flocked to him to hear his teachings. He performed miracles. And people hated him for the things that he said. Crawly wasn’t sure exactly what Jesus had been preaching, but he did know if the hatred it would bring. That hadn’t even been in good plan of the demons and of Hell. That was something the people had decided all on their own.

Now, it was time for a test. This job had been sent to Crawly straight from Satan, Himself. He would meet Jesus in this desert, where Jesus had gone to fast and to pray, and he would try to tempt him. No one quite knew what fate was in store for Jesus, and if the angels did, Gabriel wasn’t telling. That meant there was still a chance to change all of Jesus’ work and have him stop what could surely lead to no good end. Crawly didn’t think it would be a worthy effort, but he would certainly give it the best shot that he could.

Jesus would not be tempted.

Jesus prayed.

Jesus fasted.

Every temptation Crawly offered him was met with denial, refusal, and a lesson. Even at the end, through a bit of magic spell, Jesus hadn’t been moved. Crawly had showed him all the kingdoms of the world, all the things that could be his, if he only listened. Jesus had denied it, and still believed so strongly in his Mother’s great and powerful awe that he would not be swayed from it. She already ruled all the kingdoms of the world, and when he would join Her in Heaven, he would defer to her glory, always.

Crawly would even have dared to call Jesus _boring_ if he wasn’t so impressively dedicated. Jesus wouldn’t have recognized Crawly from the market, anyway, because of the way that Crawly appeared. But Jesus believed him to be Satan, Lucifer, the Devil—for the Devil not to be able to make a dent in Jesus’ determination was something else, and Crawly realized how much he’d failed. He had to hand it to Gabriel—Gabriel had done a fantastic job instilling a love of God into Jesus.

“What if I just sat with you, then?” Crawly asked. The facade of evil and demon faded away from him in scales and teeth and claws, and he was left just as himself. The same woman who Jesus had seen in the market, with Gabriel, but Jesus would not remember.

“Why would the Devil care to sit with me through my prayers?” Jesus asked, skeptical.

“Do you even know why the Devil came to be?” Crawly asked. “Do you know why the demons follow him?”

“They denied the will of God and were cast out.”

Crawly shook his head. “If only it were so grand. Might I sit with you, then? Teach you a story you won’t learn from a better source, perhaps?”

“What do they call you?” Jesus asked.

That gave Crawly pause. Demons had names. All demons had names. Their names were often stupidly similar to the true nature of them, as that made it easy to figure them out from name and look alone. Jesus was no angel, and he was no demon, but he might have been able to understand the nature of Crawly if he knew his name. That name, anyway. Crawly had never been overly _fond_ of his name, and now, there was a spectacular presentation for him to change it.

“Crowley,” he decided, quickly. “You may call me Crowley.”

“Well, then. Should the Devil be called Crowley, I should invite him to tell me his tale.”

Crowley smiled, then. He sat down beside Jesus, in the desert, and told him just how the demons had been cast out. Maybe Crowley was fond of Jesus, too.

Jesus’ fate was soon to be known by all. And it was not a pretty one. Nothing could have been done to stop it, temptation nor blessing. His life had led straight to this place, the place of the skull. To Golgotha. Nothing would have stopped Gabriel from being here to see it, even if every pound of that hammer had seemed a threat unto him, as well. It was a worse sight to see Jesus’ cross hoisted up into the air. The worst sight to see Jesus upon it, hanging there on rope and nail, bleeding with his crown of thorns.

Gabriel wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t think about the time he’d spent watching over Jesus. But he wouldn’t be angry, either. He wouldn’t think about all of the reports and meetings where Aziraphale had the chance to tell him that this was to be Jesus’ fate. It would have been a cruel thing to tell him too early, and it might have impeded the plan. Aziraphale couldn’t have been sure that, if Gabriel knew, he wouldn’t have tried to sway Jesus away from this path. Maybe his death would mean salvation, but did Gabriel really believe it was worth it?

And then, Crowley was beside him. As if the whole of the day couldn’t have gotten any worse, Crowley was standing beside him. There was a sudden rage that bundled up, and Gabriel nearly shouted with it. Instead, he bit down his tongue. He would not dishonor Jesus by fighting hours before his death. That would be cruel.

“Come to gawk at him, then?” Gabriel sneered.

“Me?” Crawly look offended. “It’s your lot that put him up there. If anything, you’re happy to see him there. Means more people for Heaven, hm?”

Gabriel frowned. “You can’t actually believe that.”

“I can believe that God sent down Her only son just to have him killed in, quite frankly, the worst way possible.”

“I’m not consulted on policy decisions, Crawly. You _must _know that this doesn’t sit right with me either.”

“Glad to hear it, and I’ve changed it, by the way. My name,” Crowley said. “Crawly just wasn’t doing it for me, anymore. Too squirming-at-your-feet-ish.”

“You were a snake.”

“It’s Crowley, now.”

Gabriel nodded. “Crowley. Why are you here?”

“I knew you were fond of him. I was fond of him too—showed him all the kingdoms of the world, once. He was certainly stronger than we gave him credit for.”

“He was certainly something,” Gabriel agreed.

“He thought I was Satan, and even then, he let me tell him a story. Apparently, God’s mixed up the real reason my lot all went on a thousand-year dive. So, I told him how we all Fell.”

“How did he take it?”

“He felt sorry for us,” Crowley admitted. “He really looked at me with sympathy, as if he would save us too, if he could.”

Gabriel bit down on his lip, then. That certainly sounded like Jesus. Jesus was probably too good for Heaven in the same way he was too good for Earth. If Gabriel had known this would be his fate, he would have tried to stop it. He would have even tried to lead Jesus down into temptation—this wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. No one should be born for the sole sake of dying. There was nothing that he could do about it, now. It would just mean more work, at the end of it. Doing true blessings and true miracles to have people follow on, so Jesus’ death wouldn’t be in vain.

There wasn’t a bit of it that Gabriel liked. Even if Crowley wasn’t his friend, or even a comrade, it was nice to know that he didn’t like it either. It felt like support, at the very least. That if Gabriel were to give in and cry, Crowley wouldn’t blame him for it.

“I say we call it a truce, tonight,” Crowley said. “Do you remember that backwater little place where we met for drinks?”

They hadn’t _met_ for drinks, but Gabriel didn’t bother correcting. Meeting for drinks sounded friendly, and Gabriel _needed_ friendly.

“We should go there, tonight. Maybe it’ll help get your mind off things.”

“I will never truly forget this,” Gabriel said, sourly. “But it might help to get away from it all.”

“That’s all I want,” Crowley admitted.

Something about that, Gabriel believed. Crowley had done things for him before, and here he was, doing one more thing. They were supposed to be enemies, and it was the first real night that Gabriel didn’t entirely mind that Crowley wasn’t going to behave like that. There was time for fighting and temptation later. For now, they could share their sorrows over a drink and try to forget about the trouble they’d just faced. Both equally fond of Jesus and both equally despaired to see him die, like that.

As if God couldn’t have planned a better death for Her son.

It was after three rounds of the barely drinkable swill that Gabriel decided to make something of the night. They were drunk and stumbling, but the music was playing, and the people were dancing. It would never be called dancing, what he invited Crowley to do—Gabriel still hadn’t figured it out, himself, and Crowley had certainly _never_ danced before. They would still try. They would laugh and stumble and, for the first time, enjoy each other’s presence.


	4. When in Rome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS FIC IS ANYTHING BUT DEAD i just have a lot of other things that take precedence, unfortunately. Still, last night at about 8:30pm i was stricken with such an unholy need to write, I ended up creating this in 2 hours before I finally went to bed. Finished it up this morning. Absolutely wild, but here you go.
> 
> This is one of them NSFW content boy chapters. Enjoy!

Crowley and Gabriel hadn’t entirely gone without one another for the next eight years. They’d met once or twice for a temptation or two. Neither one of them would admit to them having been planned meetings, because that ruined the whole temptation thing. Neither one of them were supposed to what came of these meetings, and maybe neither of them did. There was always a bit of magic involved, where Crowley pulled at thoughts and made them real. But as the one who pulled the thoughts, Crowley knew how they’d grown. How the magic had shrank.

They’d never kissed, and they’d never talked more about what happened. Usually, by the next time they met, they’d forgotten the first time had happened. Between the brawls, the fights, and the sex—it was hard to keep score. What they knew for certain was that _this_ meeting wasn’t planned. It was in Rome. In a tavern, because taverns were always a safe and comfortable place to be.

Gabriel had already been there for some time, minding his moment away with a bit of a game, off in the corner. Hearing Crowley’s voice had been a chance thing that he _almost_ wished hadn’t happened. Hearing Crowley’s voice had perked him up beyond what he wanted to admit, and it had made his little game almost unexciting. It had been a challenging mind game, another one of those human things that he’d tried solely for Aziraphale’s benefit but ended up enjoying for himself. In comparison to company, however, it paled.

Gabriel left his game there, on the table, and went off to follow that all too familiar voice. He wished Crowley’s voice didn’t sound so inviting—this whole thing of willingly walking off to meet him was bad. If the Archangels found out he’d gone off _willingly_ with a demon, well, that was just what he’d been trying to avoid all of those years. Yet, there he was, walking straight up to where Crowley was leaned up against the counter, in his seat, waiting impatiently for _whatever was drinkable_.

Really, none of it was drinkable. Not in the sense that it was something Gabriel would have ever deigned to accept into his body. In the sense of what the humans would do, Crowley’s commentary just said that he didn’t _know_ what was drinkable. He didn’t know what the drinks were, what the food was. Then, there was his dress. Gabriel had been watching the humans close enough, writing his reports, to know that Crowley’s dress was every kind of inappropriate.

“This is exactly the sort of place I’d expect to find trouble,” Gabriel said, all too boldly taking up a seat beside Crowley.

“Not exactly the kind of place I’d think to find _you_,” Crowley laughed to himself.

“Business from Aziraphale,” Gabriel explained. “It’s not exactly how I planned to spend my time in Rome, but it’s better than the alternative.”

“You had an alternative?”

Gabriel shrugged. “It was go to Rome to talk about the people or stay upstairs and help file paperwork in the downtime.”

“My sympathies.”

“You don’t actually have any of that, do you?” Gabriel asked. He waved down the serving girl and got his own drink, in the meantime.

“Not much, no, but for you?” Crowley leaned into Gabriel’s shoulder. “I have a bit. In fact, I might be able to help your little report out. If you’re willing to spend some time with a demon, that is.”

Gabriel took a sip and took far too long to really think about what had prompted him to get a _drink_. He didn’t eat. He didn’t drink. Gabriel didn’t _sully _his celestial temple with food, but Crowley had some sort of effect. Just sitting near him was enough to let Gabriel’s shoulders loosen, for a moment. He found that ale wasn’t as bad as he might have thought, otherwise.

“I can manage, I think,” Gabriel responded, swirling the drink. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’ve been in town for a bit, and they’ve got this thing just down the road. The Colosseum—have you ever been?”

Gabriel shook his head. “I haven’t. What is it?”

Crowley laughed into his hand. “Have an open mind, alright? I may have a shiny medal down in Hell for it, but I had nothing to do with it. Turns out, humans have been enslaving each other for centuries. Romans got real creative with it, and they put those humans to work fighting other humans—it’s not really _work_, though.”

“Crowley, that’s terrible,” Gabriel frowned.

“Seems like something that your _superiors_ would like to know about, doesn’t it?” Crowley nudged him in the side. “Can’t write home about the desperate need for God’s Grace in Rome without seeing what it is to write home about, yeah?”

“I suppose that’s correct. Are you sure we should do this, though?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely. You might even enjoy some action,” Crowley said, with a wink. “You could even relax.”

Gabriel rested in the palm of his hand, sighing. It seemed a good enough reason to go, but could he really get behind supporting something that was so clearly _evil_? Crowley did say that demons hadn’t anything to do with it, but he was a demon. He could be lying to cover it up. And that was just the thing, then—demons. Still being demons. Gabriel had maybe hoped that watching Jesus die like that would have given a greater cause to _something, _but it had only been in salvation for humans.

Crowley had talked about it once, though Gabriel could barely piece together the memory. It was right after another moment, wrapped up each in each other with too much temptation magic in the air. It was the only time Crowley ever seemed to be serious, when he thought that Gabriel wouldn’t hear him. That was when he’d talked about it: his own fear. God hadn’t just abandoned demons, but She hated them. If She were to ever send salvation anywhere, it would never be for _them_.

Never for Crowley. Gabriel couldn’t help but wonder if that was fair. But he couldn’t think things like that. If anyone found out, and God would know, he might be the next to Fall.

“Let’s go,” Gabriel decided. “I’d like to see what this is about.”

“Great. Let’s get on, then.” Crowley even _offered his hand_. Gabriel had to take a minute to be shocked, but then, drinks abandoned, he took Crowley’s hand.

Crowley didn’t let go of his hand until they were in the Colosseum, where they had miraculously managed to get a front row seat. Crowley promised that it would be an action-packed afternoon, and if Gabriel would let himself go, he might even enjoy himself. Gabriel was skeptical about the entire thing, but he had nothing to lose. Besides, Crowley was there with him. At the very least, he would have a quality bit of company, for a bit. Even if just for the moment.

Then, everything started. There was a rumble of applause when the fighters came out. There were two of them, dressed heavily in armor and with swords. One of them had a shield, while the other had two swords. The announcer promised it was going to be one hell of a fight. It wasn’t even going to be the only fight; it would be the experience of the entire day, with plenty of food and drink—all for the right price. Crowley was more than willing to steal and miracle his way to a hefty meal, if Gabriel was so inclined.

Gabriel didn’t even answer the question. He was more focused on what was happening in front of them, and he wasn’t quite sure why. He wanted to be disgusted, knowing the origin of these fights. And yet, watching the two fighters go at each other had entirely stolen his attention. Gabriel did remember the first war, and he remembered fighting in it, against the demons. He and Michael had, on rare occasion, sat together and talked about that time. Michael had more than enough stories to spend a year on.

Fighting shouldn’t have ever been an answer, but that was _also_ something Gabriel wasn’t supposed to think about. It had been a holy war, or so God had said. So, they fought. This felt no different, even if Gabriel was sitting in a seat. He could still feel the rush, remembering what it was like to fight, himself. He hadn’t _enjoyed_ it, necessarily. That might have won him a trip straight to Hell. But he had felt that rush, that adrenaline and ecstasy. He hadn’t even realized that’s what it had been until it all rushed back, watching those two fighters attack.

He eventually decided that he wanted one of them to _win_. The one with the two swords was smaller, faster, and Gabriel would have bet money that he’d come out on top. Then, never one to be wrong, Gabriel snapped his fingers down. Beside him, Crowley laughed, but Gabriel elected to entirely ignore that. He _was_ enjoying himself, and Crowley wasn’t going to get to dictate how he enjoyed himself. Besides, something as heinous as making slaves fight could use a little blessing.

Then, when the little one with two swords won, Gabriel found himself cheering with the rest of the crowd. Crowley had stayed where he was, happily seated and more than content to just watch Gabriel let go. When the cheering died down and the shouting stopped, Gabriel dropped back to his seat. He was laughing. Laughing—Crowley had never seen Gabriel laugh, before. After the last big thing they’d experienced together, laughing was a good sign.

“The other one will still survive,” Gabriel said, proud of himself. “I don’t like that it’s _to the death_, but it was quite enjoyable.”

“There’s more to come, so hold onto your halo.”

“I don’t have a halo,” Gabriel frowned. “Humans made that up. Angels do not have—”

“I know, I know,” Crowley snorted. “It was a joke. Live a little, come on. The next fight is going to start soon. Did you want something to snack on?”

“No, no. This is more than enough to satisfy me.”

Crowley chuckled, and Gabriel tried not to look at him. He didn’t want to know what Crowley was thinking about, and he didn’t want that to influence letting himself just _talk_. Besides, he was far more focused on the fight than he was Crowley. Crowley was, more than anything, just a side piece.

The second fight began, and the crowd erupted in more applause. Gabriel joined them. This time, when the fighters came out, neither of them were armed or armored. They were wearing rags, with nothing but wraps around their fists. An entirely different sort of fight, then, and Gabriel found himself on the edge of his seat as he watched. He watched closer, as the fight began.

It was awful, really, if he thought about it. That’s why he didn’t think about it. The fighters tussled with each other in the sand, the dirt, and they threw punches and kicks like Gabriel had never seen before. It was an entirely different sort of fighting, without swords or spears or knives. Reasonably, Gabriel should have known better than to think fighting couldn’t be done so well without weapons—he’d fought Crowley a few times in such the same manner, but to _watch_ it, was entirely different.

Gabriel decided that he _liked_ one of them, and once again, he snapped his fingers down. They’d both survive, only certain after a bit of time, so the fight could still be one. This time, though, he picked the taller, lankier looking one. If he squinted, and he did with the bright sunlight and the distance he had to look, this one almost looked like Crowley. Gabriel could almost imagine it was him and Crowley down there, tangled together with fists and feet and—well.

Gabriel chanced a look back at Crowley, who did actually seem interested, this time. His glasses were stupid, and his hair was a bit silly, but Gabriel still found it hard to look away from him, when he looked like that. His eyes were wide with excitement, and there were just the barest hints of a smile on his face. Crowley was enjoying this, too. Maybe he was even imagining that he and Gabriel were down there, but maybe he was imagining something more.

Then, the crowd exploded in a loud shout and applause as the Crowley-like-fighter was declared victorious. Gabriel flew up with them, clapping a bit too enthusiastically. Crowley had no reason to _know _what he was thinking about, even if he was giving Gabriel that look. Crowley didn’t just peer into his mind for nothing—it was only in those instances where, try as he might, Gabriel couldn’t even deny what Crowley found. It never crossed his mind that Crowley could just have been around him for long enough, now, that there were things he could tell.

“You’d have more fun if you engaged,” Gabriel complained, when he sat back down.

“You’d have more fun if you let chance play,” Crowley reminded, reaching out to cover Gabriel’s hand with his own. “Let’s not snap for this one, yeah? See what happens.”

“Can they still both survive?” Gabriel asked, wincing. He truly was unsure if Crowley would demand he not use _that_ miracle, either.

“Yeah, yeah,” Crowley laughed. “I’ll even do that one,” he winked, snapping up.

“Oh, Crowley,” Gabriel pushed him to the side. “You’re an absolute menace.”

The fight was starting. This time, there was one fighter who was dressed out in the finest armor, the finest axe. His opponent was a man dressed in rags with nothing but a knife, and Gabriel’s jaw dropped open. He looked to Crowley, as if for _comfort_, but Crowley just gestured out to the stage.

Gabriel followed that gesture and watched the fight, more worry building up then there was anything else. Still, he couldn’t deny how _exciting_ it was, to watch. The little man in rags looked entirely outmatched, and there were people throughout the Colosseum cheering that the armored man would win. Gabriel had a hunch, and he didn’t snap. It was that he could _see_ skill where it was. The larger man had armor and an axe, but his movements were clunky and disoriented.

The little man in rags, though. He was swift on his feet with practiced work, as if he’d been a warrior before he ever found himself in this position. It might have made sense, too; he didn’t look like he’d come from any of the immediate surrounding areas. Gabriel could think up anything that he wanted, and all of it was based on the way this man could _move_. It was like watching a dance, a practiced thing. It was absolutely enthralling, and he couldn’t look away.

As practiced as he was, the little man didn’t seem to fare too well, regardless. The larger man would be impossible to take down, with all the armor he wore. This wasn’t a fight to the death, but the little man didn’t know that. As far as he knew, winning this was the only way to see tomorrow, and the odds had been stacked against him. Gabriel wanted to re-stack the odds, but Crowley’s hand was over his, again. That stupid smile on his face. Let chance have a chance.

Gabriel wrung his hands together, having ripped his hand out of Crowley’s, and watched. He chewed on his bottom lip, watching as the two men clashed. It was entirely unfair—but then it happened. The little man used that to his advantage, being little. The second he had a clear _inch_ of the armored man’s neck, he stabbed. The man fell like a mountain, but Crowley’s little demonic miracle would work well enough, later. Gabriel trusted that.

He trusted that, and he stood up to shout and scream and cheer. This time, when he jumped to his feet, he pulled Crowley along with him. Crowley joined him, that time, in the cheering and the excitement. They were _both_ excited, both shouting with the crowd, and Gabriel couldn’t seem to calm down. If this had been about relaxing, that wasn’t what was happening. His corporation’s heart was beating quickly, and his mind was running faster than it ever had before.

That had been the most exciting thing he’d ever seen, and it _continued_ to be the most exciting thing. They watched fight after fight, together. Crowley was more excited, the more he let himself into the moment. It was the first time that they’d spent any _real_ time together, where they didn’t start or end with a fight.

In the most recent break, when Gabriel sat down, they’d _stared_ at each other. Gabriel was panting, and he hadn’t even done anything. It was just the bounding adrenaline, the _rush_ of the fights that had him like this. Crowley didn’t look all that better off; his face was flushed red, and his glasses were sitting skewed on his face.

“We should go,” Gabriel said, suddenly. “It’s getting dark.”

“There’s still more to watch. It’s an all-day event, come on!” Crowley argued. He reached out for Gabriel, and there was that sharp buzz when Crowley’s hands were on his arm.

“Let’s go,” Gabriel breathed, like he couldn’t catch his breath.

The next fight was just about to start, and it was promising to be a big one. One man against a veritable legion—which would turn out to be ten men, but the announcements had it sounding wildly exciting. Crowley had to choose between that and the look in Gabriel’s eyes, like he _really_ wanted to leave. But it didn’t look like he wanted to leave because he wasn’t enjoying himself. Oh, no, maybe it was that Gabriel was enjoying himself too much. It did seem exactly like to him to be afraid of some indulgence.

“Yeah,” Crowley said, a bit lost in Gabriel’s gaze. “Yeah, let’s go. Whatever you want.”

Gabriel pulled Crowley not only from their seats but straight from the Colosseum. The streets were quiet, everyone tucking inside for the evening. The sun hadn’t quiet set, but it was getting dark. That didn’t seem to be a deterrent as Gabriel pulled them through the streets, wandering off until he ducked down a dark alleyway between two quiet buildings. They were right out in the open, really, with only the shadows of the buildings to make any play at masking them. And still, Gabriel fell against the wall and pulled Crowley into him.

They were kissing. _Kissing_. Gabriel had pulled Crowley right against him, their legs mingled and their chests flush together, so that they could fall into a hard, ravenous sort of kiss. Gabriel had his arms wrapped around Crowley’s neck, and Crowley had to brace himself on the bricks behind them. But oh, he didn’t really care what he had to do. Gabriel had started this kiss. Gabriel, who had been too afraid to ever admit that he wanted _anything_, had pulled Crowley into this desperate kiss.

There was tongue. Tongue pressed together, in each other’s mouths, until there was saliva dripping down Gabriel’s chin, and still—he wanted more. He pulled Crowley somehow impossibly closer shifting only that he could grab one of Crowley’s hands and shove it between them. Crowley had been trying so hard to ignore Gabriel’s thick cock, pressed hard against his thigh, but if Gabriel was going to be insistent about it—Crowley wouldn’t argue. He wedged his hand between them and cupped Gabriel through his draped toga.

Gabriel moaned, breaking their kiss and letting his head lean back into the wall, behind them. Crowley was molding his fingers into his flesh, working him right through the fabric of his clothes, and Gabriel had never felt anything quite as amazing. They were staring at each other, too. There was no way to deny what was happening, and Crowley looked like he’d seen a ghost. Like he didn’t _believe_ he had Gabriel’s arms around his neck, his hand on Gabriel’s cock.

“Hurry, trouble,” Gabriel panted. “Someone could find us.”

Crowley was going to make sure no one _would_ find them, with a subtle flick of his fingers that Gabriel didn’t happen to catch. He would have loved a quick romp against the side of a building, but part of him wanted to take this slow. They’d just _kissed_—they’d never kissed before. It hadn’t mattered how many times they’d been together, how many times Crowley had tempted him and pulled thoughts from his head to use against him. They’d never kissed. It always felt like a farce, something that Gabriel let happen because he needed the release and wasn’t strong enough to admit it. But the kiss.

“Do you want this?” Crowley asked. He had to know.

Gabriel nodded quickly. “Yes, Crowley, _yes_—hurry, please.”

_Fuck_ if Crowley wasn’t going to replay that sentence for the rest of his life, when he was alone. This might be the only time he’d ever get to have Gabriel like this, where Gabriel wanted him. Gabriel wasn’t hiding behind anything, right now. There was no temptation, no magic, and no unruly thoughts. It was Gabriel’s wants. Gabriel’s _needs_. He needed Crowley. Crowley was going fulfill every _single_ one of them.

“How?” Crowley breathed, leaning in close. “Want me to take you just like this? Do you want me to fuck you into the wall from behind?”

“Like this,” Gabriel gasped, “_please_. I want to see you.”

That went straight to Crowley’s cock, and he wasn’t about to deny Gabriel anything. First, he just had to get him undressed—the both of them. Nobody would find them, so it didn’t matter how undressed they got. It was a scramble of hands and grabbing, reaching out for each other until they were disheveled and half-robed. Gabriel’s toga was falling away from his chest, and with Crowley’s help, it was hiked all the way up his hips. Crowley had shuffled his own clothes around until he could at least have his cock out, and then, he got to work.

Gabriel gasped when Crowley hoisted his leg up, resting it in the crook of his elbow while he worked a minor miracle. He never liked to do this dry, after all—hurting Gabriel like that had never been the point. Maybe hurting Gabriel had been a point, once, but Crowley wanted nothing more but to leave him covered in purple marks and feeling _good_. Oh, he wanted Gabriel to feel good.

With his fingers covered in oil, Crowley pressed them right up between Gabriel’s cheeks, rubbing it gently over his hole. Gabriel’s hips twitched in return, trying to work himself down, faster. They’d had plenty of practice and falling into each other like this was _easy_. Daresay, it was perfect. It was _good_. Gabriel’s hole was quivering beneath Crowley’s touch, and Crowley wasn’t about to make it wait a second longer. He pressed his finger in, reveling in the way Gabriel’s jaw fell open in a silent cry.

“Careful,” Crowley teased. “Don’t want anyone to _find us_.”

Gabriel clamped his own hand over his mouth and shut his eyes tight. It was _adorable._ Crowley should really tell him that there was no risk of being found, but it was more fun to watch him so desperate, like that. He wanted this so badly that he wouldn’t dare risk someone finding them, even if it met masking his cries, like that. He was never very loud, but watching him actually _need _to keep himself quiet, oh. Crowley could feel his cock twitch at the thought, precum dripping down the length of him, already.

He wasn’t going to last long, at this point, and neither was Gabriel. He was already trembling from the one finger inside of him, even if Crowley could attest that to his skill. He crooked his finger inside, fucking it in and out of Gabriel in that slow, torturous movement that he knew Gabriel liked more than he’d say. It was one of those things Crowley had learned to spot, the less temptation he’d had to use, over time—when Gabriel wanted to drag things out. Crowley wanted it too.

Crowley wanted to live in this moment _forever_.

Crowley had a second finger coated in oil and worked inside Gabriel. Gabriel had just opened right up for him, and Crowley didn’t want to know if it was a miracle, or not. He just wanted to believe that Gabriel was that desperate for him that his body just bloomed right open for Crowley’s fingers. Every thrust of them had Gabriel making cute little whimpers that he’d never made before, like this was the height of pleasure he’d ever had. If that was the truth, then Crowley was more than happy to have been the one to give it to him.

“More?” Crowley asked, then, in a low whisper.

When Gabriel nodded, Crowley worked a third finger into him. He worked on spreading them open, working Gabriel until he was loose and dripping in oil. Crowley wanted to _really_ make sure Gabriel was ready for him. It was always so much better when he could just slide home, fuck his hips into Gabriel without hesitation. Gabriel took him so well, always with his head thrown back and his eyes squeezed shut. Crowley was groaning, dropping his head into Gabriel’s neck just _thinking_ about it.

He pressed his lips into Gabriel’s neck, then. He kissed over the skin of him, running his tongue over Gabriel’s pulse points and scraping his teeth. He could feel Gabriel tremble around him, the way that he clenched down over his fingers with the pleasure he felt. And Crowley was giving him that pleasure. Gabriel was _letting_ Crowley give him that pleasure, with no pretense, no hiding. Crowley bit down into Gabriel’s neck just to hear his muffled gasp, and he prayed that mark would last forever. A reminder of this.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Crowley suddenly growled. “You want that, don’t you? You want my cock inside of you.”

Gabriel pulled his hand away to get his fingers through Crowley’s hair, wrenching his head back so they could look at each other. Crowley _almost_ thought he’d gone too far, but Gabriel looked far too blissed-out for that to be the case. He worked his hips down onto Crowley’s fingers, too, and that was no sign of an angel in regret.

“Fuck me, then, trouble,” Gabriel challenged. It was all he said, but it felt like an epic of declaration.

Crowley pulled his fingers back and shushed Gabriel’s little whimper; he’d get Gabriel through this, right on his cock, if he had anything to say about it. He shifted up Gabriel’s leg again and guided the head of his cock to Gabriel’s quivering little hole. Crowley wished he could see it, puffy and red from use and begging for _more_, where Gabriel’s mouth always seemed shut.

When Crowley pressed in, Gabriel’s head fell back into the wall and he groaned—quietly. He didn’t want anyone to find them. Every inch of Crowley that sunk inside of him was another blast of fire through his cock, up his spine. Gabriel knew he wasn’t about to last long. Each inch, Crowley only got thicker inside of him, until they were as closely pressed together as they could be. The angle sucked. The venue sucked. But Gabriel groaned through every second of it, anyway, like a virgin high off his first time.

Gabriel’s hand fisted through Crowley’s hair when he leaned closer, resting his chin on Gabriel’s shoulder when he started to move. He could feel Crowley’s tongue against his neck, moving down from his ear and over his jaw, and somehow, it was just more kindling to the fire. Gabriel didn’t know if he could handle this much, all at once, but Crowley was _inside _of him, fucking him in slow, long strokes on the thick of his cock. Every roll of his hips split Gabriel open right over again, in just the right way.

He was far too concerned with just feeling to even _do_ anything. He gripped onto Crowley with all the force he could manage, grounding himself, like that. Might he have reached between them to jerk his own cock, but it was like he was drowning in the pleasure Crowley gave him. He didn’t even have time to think about jerking himself off, not when he needed his arms around Crowley to hold him close.

“Crowley—” Gabriel gasped, holding on just a little tighter. His toes were curled into his sandals, and it was everything he could do not to finish on the spot. He wanted _more_.

“Do you want to know a secret?” Crowley managed out, between thrusts, between the panting in his breath.

Gabriel couldn’t even form a response; he just nodded hurriedly.

“You should know—I’m a snake,” Crowley hissed, fucking just _right_ that the tip of his cock rubbed over Gabriel’s prostate. Gabriel, in return, cried out. “Snakes have _two_ cocks, you know. I make it one, just for you, but I could—”

“Crowley,” Gabriel cried out. “Shut _up_—fuck, Crowley!”

Crowley busied himself at Gabriel’s neck to keep himself quiet, marking whatever flesh he could get a hold of. His hips were sputtering, the feeling of Gabriel around him was almost too much. On top of that, he _knew_ Gabriel wanted this, heard it in his voice when he cried out. He could feel it, every time Gabriel clenched down or rolled his hips. They were both so close, as it was, and Crowley didn’t want it to end. Short of a miracle, there was no way that was happening, so he did what he could, in the moment.

He and Gabriel met eyes, and it was just in that moment that they smashed together again, lips to lips like it was the last time they’d ever kiss. Crowley worked his tongue along the ridges of Gabriel’s mouth, and that undid them both. Gabriel was coming, his arms squeezed around Crowley’s neck and his hips bucking, his walls clenching down with the force of it. Crowley hadn’t even paid mind to his cock, and Gabriel had been too caught up in it to think to touch his own. He’d come, just like that, and Crowley was helpless at the thought of it.

When Crowley came, he didn’t even _think_ about asking. He should have, but his orgasm hit him before he’d had even a moment to pull from the kiss. He came inside of Gabriel in streaks, fucking through each wave of his orgasm until his hips finally slowed, and the high disappeared. Only then did their kiss part; Crowley slipped out of him, his cock softening, and he let Gabriel’s leg down.

They stood there for what seemed like ages, years, just staring at each other. After those years had passed, Gabriel cupped his hands around Crowley’s jaw and kissed him, again—_hard_. It was somehow a gentler kiss, though, in the way that it was chaste and full of things they’d never say to each other. All those words died between them, when Gabriel pulled away. All Crowley could do was stare helplessly at him, dumbstruck by the feeling behind it all. Especially, when Gabriel was suddenly fixing his laurels.

“We should clean up,” Gabriel said. “Perhaps, we could stay at a hotel, tonight?”

“Yeah—wait,” Crowley blinked. “A hotel? A room? The two of us?”

“If that’s a problem—”

“No! No, not a problem,” Crowley leaned closer, his hands around Gabriel’s neck in the gentlest way he could manage. Oh, he wanted to kiss Gabriel until the sun came up, but he’d never say it out loud. “We should do that. I’ll pay.”

Gabriel laughed to himself, an amused little smile stretched over his face. Crowley etched it into the back of his mind, where he’d never forget, and then they were off. They’d made sure to fix themselves up, before walking off through the city. The miracle had died away once they’d finished, so it was imperative they at least look presentable. There was the unfortunate little twinge in Gabriel’s walk, but that would go away—if Gabriel wanted it to, anyway. Crowley hoped he didn’t.

They did eventually find an inn to stay at, and as promised, Crowley paid with money he hadn’t had before. Just the little things that Gabriel didn’t need to know, as long as they were still enemies. Technically. Could they really still be enemies, after that? Crowley wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to risk it. They had the room, anyway, and it was the nicest one Crowley could reasonably say was affordable. There was only the one bed, and Gabriel didn’t even _mind_.

No, Gabriel did just the opposite. He pulled Crowley down into the bed with him, and this time, they tore their clothes off entirely. Crowley found his second release inside of Gabriel, with Gabriel’s ankles locked behind his neck and even more purple little bruises blossoming forth on Gabriel’s chest. Crowley hadn’t stopped fucking, hadn’t stopped _talking_, until Gabriel came a moment later, his cock, again, untouched.

After half the night spent lying together, _exploring_ each other, and kissing, there was finally time to rest. The sheets were miraculously clean, as were they, but they were both still fabulously naked. Pressed against each other. This would end when the sun rose, and they both probably knew that, well enough. Still, for the moment, they could have this silent peace between them and not think on for a second about what it could have meant. As far as tomorrow was concerned, it meant nothing.

“Is it true, then?” Gabriel asked. “What you said about having _two_?”

Crowley snorted, his eyes half closed and a laugh dead in his throat. “Yeah. It’s more effort to only have one,” he slurred. “Why?”

“Something to think about,” Gabriel said, haphazardly and shrugging.

Crowley didn’t really see what there was to think about, but Gabriel didn’t seem to be providing an answer, either. What he did provide was so much better, so much more _everything_ that Crowley had ever wanted. Gabriel leaned against him, pressed into his side with his head on Crowley’s chest, and he _slept_. They would both sleep, wrapped up in each other like that. It would be the first time they’d ever truly just _slept_ in each other’s company. The first time they’d kissed. The first time they’d ever been anything other than a demon and an angel.

And just like that, it would return to normal. Gabriel was still there in the morning, but he was stiff and unapproachable. Neither of them spoke about the state they woke up in, and they didn’t talk about the night before. Gabriel might have blamed it on the rush from seeing the fights, and Crowley didn’t want to think about it like that. He wanted to believe that Gabriel, as himself with no influence, had made the decision to do this. Any excuses were better left dead, between them, and that’s where they’d be.

Gabriel’s excuse would be that he had reports to write and other assignments to attend to. He wasn’t supposed to be in Rome for very long; just a quick blessing and a few trips around town. He might have not even expected to run into Crowley, but he’d been there, and they’d taken advantage of the situation. Gabriel didn’t entirely _mean_ to be that harsh, but it was the only way to protect himself. If only there was a better way to _tell_ Crowley, because seeing that look on his face did nothing for Gabriel’s own joy.

He had, truly, wanted this to continue for as long as it could. It just couldn’t continue any longer, and all that was left between them would be some vague promise of a next time—if there were to be a next time. Wherever they were to meet. Wherever life would take them. If they were to meet again, Gabriel was sure that he wouldn’t _ever_ need to be tempted, assuming he didn’t Fall between the here and then. If he did, it wouldn’t matter. If he didn’t, he’d know it was safe.

As long as they weren’t actively looking for each other, then it would be fine. It was a stiff and awkward goodbye, where the both of them, in idiotic longing, wished that they could repeat the night and live there forever. Might, instead, they just have the strength to hold each other one last time with a goodbye kiss and a fairer promise of tomorrow. Neither of them could make the first move, not out of the fear they stood in. And so, Gabriel would leave Rome. Crowley would stay awhile, sore about a failed temptation, anyhow.

Until next time, it was. Until next time was all Crowley could think about, under a long swig of whatever was _drinkable._


	5. Knights of Wessex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a VERY short chapter but in my defense the scene is also extremely short so there wasn't really much that I could figure out more to do. Oh well. Hopefully we are back to regularly scheduled length with the next one.

It was dark, muggy, and _cold_. The rains had just stopped, and once they stopped, that was when Gabriel set out on his expedition. As it turned out, Aziraphale wasn’t satisfied with just an outsider’s perspective. He encouraged—demanded—that Gabriel get involved. He would have so much more fun on Earth if he were involved. Miracles and blessings would also be easier, if he were just apart of things. In fact, Aziraphale wasn’t sure how Gabriel had managed so well without being engaged. He couldn’t fathom how to get close to people without _looking_ like a person. Acting like one, at least.

That was how Gabriel got himself assigned to the knights of the round table, and that was how he got himself roped into wearing this stupid outfit. He would have been happier to play a serf, if he were being quite honest. Being a knight involved a different type of work that he really wasn’t in the mood for, and that was _this _kind of work. It was hunting down people who were causing problems and dealing some kingly justice down on them, where Gabriel really only believed in the Almighty’s justice.

This was what Aziraphale wanted him to do, so maybe it was the same thing. At Aziraphale’s orders, Gabriel was now following King Arthur’s orders to hunt down the Black Knight. Through the rain, the mist, and the mud, Gabriel would do just that. No matter how annoying and bothersome it was, no matter how much he was involved with human affairs for it—the part that worried him the most was having to attend some great feast at the Black Knight’s capture. Ridiculous.

If Gabriel had to eat one more portion of mutton because it would be _strange_ if he didn’t, he was going to find a way to make this corporation of his vomit, because it was disgusting. Unfortunately, vomiting didn’t seem to be something the Almighty had put in for him, so to speak. Gabriel was well on his way to attempting to figure out that vomit thing when he and his men came to a halt, out in the middle of a veritable quagmire—oh, Gabriel did _not_ like England, at all.

Still, they’d apparently found their mark. Gabriel sighed and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. He might have brought his spear with him, instead, as he was finding it to be quite a formidable weapon. Something told him that he wouldn’t need to be at his best, today. Not if the Black Knight was who he thought it was.

“I come to face the Black Knight,” Gabriel said, “on order of King Arthur. Reveal him to me.”

The Black Knight was there, dressed in a solid suit of void armor with a sword strapped to his hip. In such contrast, Gabriel wore the finest silver suit that there had been to offer, with a purple cape and no helmet at all—he didn’t need one. There wasn’t a fool on this wet Earth that he couldn’t best. As much as he hated everything else about England, he didn’t so much mind the clothes. They were fine, and the color was just a shade off from his wings.

“You have sought the Black Knight, but you have found your death,” the metal man said, and Gabriel couldn’t help but scoff a bit of laughter. He’d definitely been right.

“Oy,” the Black Knight called, “what’s your problem?”

“You don’t have to actually play into this,” Gabriel snorted. “I know it’s you under there, Crowley.”

Crowley, because it was very much Crowley, flipped up the visor on his helmet. He was scowling, but Gabriel was more interested in the fact that his eyes were just _there_, out in the open. He tried not to think about the last time they’d seen each other, the last time he’d seen those eyes in a Roman alleyway. It’d been too long, and this meeting was shaping up to be much different.

“You can have a little fun, you know,” Crowley argued.

“I’d argue that this is the exact opposite of fun. What are you doing out here anyway?”

Crowley gestured back to the men beside him. “Put your weapons down, he’s fine. I know him.” Then, he grumbled to himself. “I’m here, you know, fomenting.”

“Is that another one of these dishes people keep trying to force me to eat?” Gabriel looked ready to gag.

“No—you know, fomenting dissent and discord. King Arthur’s been spreading too much peace and stuff, so they sent me over to, you know. Foment.”

“I was sent to spread peace,” Gabriel huffed. “Aziraphale thought it would be a good idea to _involve_ myself with these humans.”

“Oh, poor little cherub. Seems to me like we’re both just here in cold, wet places ruining our own lives, yeah? Canceling each other out.”

“Seems that way. This weather is awful.”

“Seems to me that we could make better time if we both just stayed at home. We could still send reports back to Head Office saying we did what they said, everything works out. Maybe we could even go off and enjoy our own time,” to which Crowley winked.

Gabriel was too caught up on the suggestion to realize Crowley had made two of them, and the second suggestion was far more interesting—if only Gabriel had heard it. “You mean lie to them? Crowley, I can’t lie to the Almighty.”

“Eh,” Crowley shrugged, “seems to me like you’d been lying to the Archangels who put you in this mess anyway. Doesn’t sound all bad, does it.”

“Well—they check for this sort of thing, don’t they?”

Crowley snorted. “I bet they have better things to do than assure you’re doing your job, especially since most of your job seems to be telling Aziraphale bedtime stories.”

Gabriel frowned.

“As long as you’re seen doing things every now and again, I’d say you’re fine. Besides, if we get out now, there might still be time to get back to Italy before the good food runs out.”

“We are not having this conversation right now.”

“I think we are.”

“Crowley,” Gabriel nearly growled.

“And here I thought we were getting along so well. Alright, here’s the plan.”

Crowley took a step forward, and by only that, the men at Gabriel’s side took up arms. Crowley stopped where he was, looking between the two men before Gabriel raised his hand, and their weapons were lowered. Crowley continued, after that, until he was standing directly in front of Gabriel. If he’d taken but one step closer, he might have been able to _kiss_ Gabriel, but it was better not to think about it.

“How about we duel for it? You win, we keep doing what we’re doing—seems a waste of time, though. I win? We get out of these stupid suits of armor and go do something more worthwhile. What do you do for fun, Gabriel?”

Gabriel raised a very unimpressed eyebrow.

“Oh? Afraid you’ll lose?” Crowley teased.

Gabriel took a firm hold on the hilt of his sword. He should have brought the spear, but there was no time for that, now. No time for regret, because he was about to accept Crowley’s ridiculous challenge. He should have walked away and called the whole thing a farce, but there was something about the promise of a fight that had Gabriel’s heart pumping. A fight with _Crowley_. They hadn’t fought in so long that there was an undeniable itch. Gabriel, much to his own dismay, wasn’t strong enough to get past it.

They drew arms, then. Crowley stepped back far enough that by drawing his sword, alone, Gabriel wouldn’t have an advantage. It would be as fair a duel as they could make it, each with their own stash of advantageous miracles to use. Sometimes, though, it wasn’t about _winning_, it was just about the fight. The rush of it, the thrill. It had been some time, and they were _both_ looking forward to it.

When their fight began, it was a hard and fast fight that no mortal would ever be able to follow. They seemed to know each other’s moves before they were made, and still, were hard-pressed to block them. There was the clanging of weapons, of metal bouncing back from the force of a blow. Crowley and Gabriel danced around each other in a practiced battle, practiced stance. Crowley knew Gabriel’s technique no better than Gabriel knew his, and _still_ the battle pressed forward.

They fought, swords met and met again in their air between them. They shouted and jumped, dodged and blocked whatever they could. Crowley used the first miracle, enough to let him jump across the slightest bit of space that Gabriel nearly found a sword in his face, but he blocked just fast enough. The struggle commenced, where Crowley used unfounded strength to get as close as he could to Gabriel.

“Lose,” Crowley whispered. “Let your friends there tell the king you’re dead, and we run off. Simple.”

Gabriel pushed back with as much force as he could muster, a miracle in the press of his feet into the wet, awful ground, and Crowley flew back. He managed to catch himself and reset his stance. The battle continued. The flash of swords, ducking, parry, _jumping_, because Crowley was always one for dramatics. Where Crowley gained ground, Gabriel would find it back and push farther. Back and forth. A constant clash, a battle that neither one of them seemed well disposed to _win_.

Gabriel wanted to win. He wanted to win _so badly_, but he had to think about it. While they continued their fight, swords clashing, time passing, they weren’t accomplishing anything. He could nick Crowley’s cheek and Crowley could hit him hard in return, but until the fight was won, there was nothing. And when the fight _was_ won, what did they get? Exactly what they had before. Maybe Crowley had a point. An awful, disastrous point. One that very well might get Gabriel kicked right out of Heaven if they ever found out.

And still, at the next thrust of Crowley’s sword, Gabriel fell to the ground. Everything went silent and still around them, but it was Crowley who dropped his sword and rushed to his side. Gabriel’s act was good enough that Crowley _actually_ thought he’d hurt him and had gone to his knees immediately to see if he was alive. And, he was. Why wouldn’t he be? If Gabriel had actually died, there would have been a lot more theatrics involved with the death of a body and the life of the soul.

Then, Gabriel winked.

“I guess I win,” Crowley said, loud enough for the men to hear it. That wasn’t enough for the men who had accompanied Gabriel, and they came in a rush where they nearly threw Crowley to the side.

Thankfully, Gabriel didn’t have to breathe. He didn’t even have to move—and on the right occasions, he didn’t have a heartbeat, either. When his men checked for his life, as far as they knew in the subtle ways of humans, Gabriel _was_ dead. Dead, and the only thing they had left to do was report it. They’d just watched this Black Knight take down the greatest knight that they’d ever known. Even if their hearts might beg they seek vengeance, it was better to flee.

Crowley watched them run off before shifting back over Gabriel, leaning over him as he opened his eyes back up. Crowley couldn’t deny that he’d had a shock of panic took. Watching Gabriel fall to the ground like that had been a jolt of _dread_—what if he really had died? An awful think to think about, and Crowley let out a bit of nervous laughter.

“Scared me there,” Crowley admitted. He hadn’t meant to admit it, but the way it made Gabriel smile was worth it.

“Who’d have thought I was an actor, hm?” Gabriel questioned.

Crowley nodded, and thankful for it, too. He didn’t want to think about the reality of it, and the way that it made something he wasn’t supposed to have _hurt_. What would he do if he _were_ to find out that Gabriel had died? Even if it was just a discorporation? Crowley wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure, and that was fine. He’d just make sure it never happened.

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” Crowley said, then. “How’s Italy sound?”

“If it’ll get me out of this armor.” Gabriel agreed.

A hop, skip, and a jump later, they were both properly attired and sitting down at a restaurant in Italy. Crowley ordered them a bottle of wine and each their own plate—so they could share, of course, and Gabriel just offered him a strange look. Neither of them ate. Much. But maybe, for this situation, they’d make an exception. It was easier to down an entire bottle of wine with a bit of pasta, as it were.

There was a good enough time to wait before the food came, and they waited the entire time, in silence. They were staring at each other, trying to work past the things they were each, in turn, thinking of. This thing between them would get them both in more trouble than they could stand. They might even die, and that wouldn’t be the worst of it. And that was just Crowley’s proposed arrangement. There was something _more_, and Gabriel didn’t want to voice it any more than Crowley did.

So, they wouldn’t.

Their food came in the meantime, served with the bottle of wine and two glasses. Crowley poured for both of them, and they made a toast to their quiet evening. They had plenty of time to discuss everything that they needed to; a bottle of wine wouldn’t hurt them, in the meantime.

“So,” Gabriel started, having actually taken a bite of his meal. “You want to start fabricating reports, then?”

“More or less. Seems like it’ll make it easier on our lives. Less work, you know.”

“More risk. If they find out, this wouldn’t be something we receive a stern talking to about.”

“No, probably not. Doesn’t mean they have to find out, you know. Plenty of ways to keep this hidden—like don’t _tell_ anyone.”

“Do you really think I’d be that stupid?”

Crowley opened his mouth.

“Don’t answer that,” Gabriel glared, pointing his fork in Crowley’s direction. “What do we even get out of this?”

“Less work! It’s that simple, listen. Could help each other out, too. Maybe, say,” and Crowley leaned in close, for this one, as if the walls were listening, “we’re both sent to the same place, why should we both go?”

Gabriel frowned. “You would suggest that one of us goes to the place and does both the tempting and the blessing? Crowley, I could _Fall_ for that.”

“Eh, it’s not so bad, when you get used to it. I’d be down there to, you know,” he smiled.

Gabriel snorted, as if that was a good enough reason to let himself Fall.

“Besides, all we have to do is make sure no one finds out. We could flip to see who goes where, yeah? It’d even be fun.”

“I don’t see what’s fun about risking my pride as an angel.”

It was Crowley’s turn to snort, at that. “You’re so stuck up. Here, should I get the flip to go off where I’m told, makes it easy. I take _all_ the work with me, which includes your silly little reports on human behavior. The ones that Aziraphale wants?”

That had Gabriel’s attention, and Crowley knew it. There was a thin smirk that stretched across his lips. He’d gotten Gabriel this close, now he just had to take him the extra mile, and their little pact would be complete. A mutually beneficial pact, as Crowley wasn’t entirely cruel. He was more than happy to take some of Gabriel’s workload for himself. Gabriel worked hard, and if their time in Israel hadn’t pointed that out, then nothing would have. Crowley still felt a bit bad for nearly making Gabriel cry over a drink, anyway.

“It’s not so bad, then. I could get in a lot of trouble for doing the blessings, too, but I’m willing to take the risk. For you,” Crowley said, pointedly.

“For me,” Gabriel repeated, as if he wasn’t about to swoon over it. Crowley was obnoxious in every single way possible, and still, there was that pesky tug towards him Gabriel always felt.

“What do you say, hm?”

“I say you’re more trouble than its worth, sometimes,” Gabriel grinned at him. They shook hands. “Just my kind of trouble, though.”

They toasted, once more, clinking their glasses together between them. To the Arrangement, that it would be a fruitful, good idea. That it wouldn’t get either of them in trouble. And that it would assure that they met on many more occasions than they already did. The last bit of their toast was entirely said in thought, where neither one of them was entirely ready to say it out loud, and that was just fine. As they’d both thought it, was made an official part of the toast, the pact, and the arrangement. An unexpected friendship.

While they finished their respective meals, they talked about things that no demon and no angel ever _should_ talk about, together. That was their respective Head Offices. Really, most of it was gossip from the grape vine, but it certainly made good dinner conversation. Before they knew it, the wine was gone, the pasta was gone, and they were splitting a rather chocolaty dessert. The waiter had glared at them upon delivery, but really, they didn’t much care about the opinions of humans.

They were in the very far north reaches of Italy, where they weren’t quite smack dab in the middle of the war that was currently going on. It wouldn’t be the first time they popped somewhere for a spell to do something they probably shouldn’t have been doing, but a few miracles here or there never hurt. Now that they were _finished_, though. That was an entirely different story. They didn’t have to stay away from a war when they were pleasantly drunk and full.

“Have you heard about the fight going on?” Crowley asked, once they’d left the makeshift little restaurant.

Gabriel hummed. “Down in Rome? Yes, I have.”

“Bet they could use some divine help,” he laughed, to himself. Hiccupped, then. “I liked the Romans.”

“Of course, you did.”

“I’m just saying, what sort of amazing thing would it be if they prevail against all odds, hm? Real hard to fight someone who’s got twice the soldiers you do, or, so I hear.”

Gabriel wasn’t in his right mind, but if this was going to be the only time they met for _some time_, then why not spend the night having a little fun. There wasn’t anything wrong with helping beat back a common enemy, especially since Crowley wasn’t the only one with a strange fondness for Romans. Gabriel could, realistically, set as many fires as he wanted and not get in trouble for it. At all. It’d make a good report, too, for Aziraphale. That the humans liked to fight each other without demonic intervention.

And after that, as the alcohol wouldn’t wear off unless they wanted it too, Gabriel was more than happy to be dragged along for the ride of breaking into a bathhouse. It wasn’t so much breaking in as it was just going in through an entrance that was self-made, not the one at the front where people were supposed to go. This was more fun, anyway. Especially with how empty the bathhouse was. Less people to bathe if they were all of fighting, anyway.

Rightfully speaking, angels and demons didn’t _need _to bathe, but it was still fun to do every now and again. That wasn’t actually what they were there to do, though, bathe. Gabriel seemed less interested in the bath and more interested in the room off to the side, to which Crowley trailed along behind him, curious. As Crowley found out, this room to the side was a _gym_. He’d never seen one, but from the way Gabriel seemed horribly entranced by it, he’d been to one a few times. And really, Crowley wasn’t about to deny that.

Gabriel was certainly drunk, but his alcohol consumption hadn’t seemed to deter his excitement. It certainly wasn’t the source of his excitement, either. It just made it more intense; he rambled on about everything that they walked past, touching things and offering, on numerous occasions, to demonstrate what he was talking about. It hadn’t taken Crowley more than a few minutes to understand just what gyms were for, and it made too much sense that Gabriel seemed to enjoy them. He had been, after all, a warrior at one point.

“Maybe you should just have your own,” Crowley said. “Not now, but you know, in the future. I’m sure all this stuff only gets better.”

“That’s—that’s a grand idea,” Gabriel replied. When he crossed the room back to Crowley, he draped his arms over Crowley’s shoulders and leaned onto him. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

“Not if you’re going to make me _use_ the gym, no.”

Gabriel laughed. “Just the opening. I’ll tell you when.”

Crowley hummed. “I could do that. Just to see what sort of trouble you’ll be getting into.”

“The best kind,” Gabriel insisted. That was when, in a horrid drunken haze, because that was the only thing that could possibly explain it, Gabriel leaned forward and kissed Crowley. Right there, in the middle of an empty gym in the dead of night, Gabriel kissed him.

The lasted no more than a second before Gabriel was pulling back, and Crowley was sure that they were going to need to sober up, after that. It was one of those things that they would never talk about, because talking about it meant that it had happened. Even if Gabriel was drunk, he didn’t suffer entirely the same consequences as humans did. He could drink bottle upon bottle upon bottle of wine, and still, his memory would be crisp and clear. Maybe his impulse control wasn’t so good, but he’d _remember_ everything that he did. So, they wouldn’t talk about it. Ever.

Besides, there were more important things to do. Gabriel now had a silly little goal—settling down somewhere and not living like a nomadic angel. Having somewhere to _go_. The idea sounded so wonderful that Crowley thought that he might even join him, at some point. In the idea, anyway. Not that he would go settle down _with_ Gabriel. That would have been obscene. That would have been admitting things neither of them wanted to admit. No. It was just a goal. For the very, very distant future.


	6. Romeo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so the quest of stupidity continues. been watching cute family movies all day, so you can imagine how hard it is to mix porn and tragedy with watching cute family movies, but i have prevailed. 
> 
> NSFW Content mid chapter

Gabriel had seen all of the Shakespearean plays. He also prayed that no one would ever find out how willingly he’d gone to see them. The first, Henry IV, he’d seen on Aziraphale’s orders. Aziraphale apparently _liked_ human media and wanted to experience it vicariously, since he had no real excuse, himself, to dip down to Earth to watch. After that, Gabriel had been hooked. He’d seen every play that had come out, since. He’d seen the replays. He’d seen the replays, after the replays.

It was something to indulge in that was so far outside of his own character that he hadn’t a single idea _why_ he’d been so taken with these plays. But he’d seen them all. He’d _enjoyed _them all. And he’d wanted to see more. What he hadn’t expected was that, somehow, he was going to get found out. And he was going to get found out in 1601 by the exact person that he’d wanted to find him out. This wasn’t just the one person who would be able to do something with his newfound information, but he could do something, with it, at any time. Being on Earth together made that easy.

“Well, well, if it isn’t exactly the angel I was looking for,” Crowley drawled, slinking up to stand beside Gabriel. “Not the place I’d expect to find you. Trying to do a little blessing, are we?”

Gabriel didn’t say anything. He was attending one of the replays of Hamlet, and just like the first one, the crowd was near empty.

Crowley looked at Gabriel, then looked at the stage. It was a rather pathetic attempt at a performance, but Gabriel seemed to have a bit of a glow around him as he watched. He certainly wouldn’t say a thing, even if Shakespeare’s plays were so open to audience engagement, but he would look at it with those wide eyes and red cheeks. Crowley might have even said that was the same face Gabriel had when he looked at _Her_—and everything clicked.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?” Crowley asked suddenly. It was said like a statement, like it was just something he’d observed. There was no malice and no mockery. Gabriel could hear that.

“I—I am,” he admitted, looking at Crowley then with his eyes wide. “Would you like to watch with me?”

“This is one of his gloomier ones, isn’t it? I could stay a bit, perhaps. I was looking for you, anyway. I had a bit of a _deal_ for you.”

They didn’t go straight for the deal. Instead, they chatted back and forth while the play went on. They met William Shakespeare, too. It was all a very strange encounter, especially since Crowley had been sure that he’d met the man before, and yet there seemed no recognition. It didn’t seem to matter that he hadn’t realized they met, because the familiarity was all the same. After Shakespeare had made no subtle attempt at writing down something Crowley had said, he’d asked them to participate, as they were the only members of the audience who were actually watching. Gabriel had thought it was humiliating, but when Crowley started shouting things at the actors, well.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Gabriel even joined him until they were laughing. Hamlet was supposed to be one of the gloomy ones, sure, but they were having fun. _Fun_. What a strange thing to have with a demon, but they stuck through until the end of the play, watching and clapping in all manners of enjoyment. It had, truly, been wonderful. But it had ended, and no one more had shown up. They were even about to leave, but Gabriel looked back into the Globe Theater, and Crowley stopped where he was.

“Something up?”

“It’s a shame, isn’t it?” Gabriel asked. “That’s the last time they’ll ever play Hamlet if something doesn’t change.”

“Probably not such a bad thing. It is pretty gloomy.”

“Crowley,” Gabriel frowned. “Maybe if you’d—well. What if you stayed and saw another?”

“Oh? You don’t want to fight this time?”

“This is the fight. I’ll get us the best seats you can imagine,” Gabriel said. “You enjoy yourself, well, I win. And when I win—”

“One demonic miracle coming right up, I guess?” Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you just whip it up yourself, if the play means that much to you?”

“I’m not supposed to _be_ here,” Gabriel explained. “If they find out that I’ve, well. I was meant to be off to Edinburgh, and I decided to stay for a play.”

“I knew that,” Crowley said. “I knew that, because that’s what I was going to talk to you about. I was supposed to be off to Edinburgh, too. Figured we could call on that little arrangement we had. Nobody gets hurt, then.”

“Watch a play with me,” Gabriel insisted. “Tomorrow night. I’ll have the best seats in the house.”

Crowley gave a wiry smile and nodded. That sounded like a deal, to him. It wasn’t the typical sort of fight, but there wasn’t anything wrong with a bit of gambling, bit of betting. Crowley wasn’t entirely opposed to helping Gabriel out, either. If Gabriel had just _asked_ him to snap the miracle, right there, he would have.

Somewhere, deep down, Gabriel must have known that Crowley would have done it anyway. They hadn’t exactly discussed what would happen if Crowley _didn__’t_ enjoy himself. It was a win-win situation, either way.

This was easier, though. This meant that they weren’t friends, and Heaven and Hell had no reason to intervene. It was also a good enough excuse to meet up, once more. Before Edinburgh.

Crowley wasn’t entirely a fan of horses, and that was going to be a part of that trip. He would certainly rather spend a night in one of those fancy booths and watch whatever play it was that Shakespeare would be showing. It wasn’t in Crowley’s style to plan ahead for anything. He would just dress in his finest clothes, sweep his hair back, and make sure his beard was freshly trimmed. If this were anyone else he was meeting, he might have even brought a single rose.

It would have been oddly appropriate, for not knowing the play they were to see.

Just on time, Crowley arrived at the designated booth. Gabriel was dressed in his finest, sitting in one of the two little chairs which were much closer together than they probably should have been. Crowley paid no mind and plopped himself right down in the open chair, and Gabriel shifted to the other side, so they weren’t quite as obviously touching as they were. That was the show. That this was something they were doing out of necessity, not because they wanted to. They did want to.

“So, what are we seeing this lovely, moon-ridden night?” Crowley asked, leaning into the dividing arm.

“Just watch,” Gabriel gestured to the stage.

This was one of Shakespeare’s more popular plays. It was much easier to find it in replays, as so many acting companies had picked it right up. The theater was filled, every seat, and the curtains were about to draw. And just like that, they would lay their scene in fair Verona with two households, both alike in dignity. Romeo and Juliet.

Gabriel had asked Crowley to see Romeo and Juliet with him, and if that wasn’t just something that made Crowley’s cheeks a little warm. Crowley hadn’t seen the play before, but he knew what it was about. A love story. A love tragedy. Compelling and appropriate.

And oddly fitting, it was. Crowley would hesitate to call anything he had with Gabriel _love_, but it was certainly some sort of relationship or another. Kinship, perhaps? Friendship. Something entirely unspoken that played out on the stage in front of them, where two people, more or less, just wanted to interact with one another. Their families were keeping them apart.

Crowley couldn’t help but glance over at Gabriel, who was watching it intensely. Even if he looked _bored_, his eyes were wide, and his lips were slightly parted. It didn’t take more than a look for Crowley to be staring more at Gabriel than he was the play. He was even ready to admit that he was already enjoying himself, miracle done—Hamlet would be a smash. He just wanted a little more than what he’d bargained for. And he didn’t know how to _ask_ for it. He’d never had to ask for it.

Some time ago, they’d just fallen into it. Temptation. Lies. More temptation. It’d been different than the way it was, now. Now, it was harder. There were _things_, little weird rituals they had to do. Dancing around each other like it was more important to keep their faces and their _families_ than it was to do anything else. The issue was those rituals weren’t exactly written down in any manuals, and they didn’t always produce the same results. Since their time as knights, Crowley had tried this particular ritual several times. Different results each time.

Crowley put his hand over Gabriel’s. Just light enough that he could brush his fingertips right over Gabriel’s knuckles. He’d done this once in an Irish tavern, and Gabriel had promptly thrown ale at him. He’d done it again in a Japanese noodle shop, and Gabriel had startled enough to knock over their noodles. They’d ended up kissing behind some shrine where no one could see them, and that had ended it. During a storm in Africa, they hadn’t done anything more than talk, like Gabriel hadn’t even noticed Crowley’s hand.

This time, Gabriel didn’t so much as move. He glanced out of the corner of his eye, at Crowley, at where Crowley’s hand was on top of his, and then back to the play. Mercutio had just died, and it was supposed to be sad. It would have been, but neither of them had watched it happen. Gabriel did turn his hand over, more entranced by this particular ritual than he was with the play. A new reaction: their fingers intertwined, and they were holding hands. It was the first time they’d ever held hands, like this. Close.

Gabriel had even shifted until he was leaning against the dividing armrest. Until their shoulders were together. And one more shift would have their heads together. Maybe if they shifted farther, they could even be kissing. Crowley wasn’t about to push his luck with _kissing_, but he did squeeze Gabriel’s hands a little tighter.

Crowley wasn’t even sure what started it. It just happened, somewhere in the middle of an argument on stage—Gabriel had leaned over and kissed Crowley. Not just something chaste and soft against his cheek, no. It was a real kiss where he put his hand on Crowley’s face and pulled him in close. And suddenly, the play didn’t matter anymore. They were too wrapped up in each other, too busy kissing to care as the play went on.

“Hey—hey,” Crowley, against everything telling him to let it happen, pushed back. “Gabriel, hey—what are you? What are we doing?”

Gabriel stared at him. “I don’t know. Do I have to know? Do _we_ have to know?”

“I think we should know, a little bit. What if someone finds out? What if Aziraphale—”

Gabriel kissed him again. “Stop talking, Crowley. Weren’t you the one who started this?”

“Yeah, well, that was before.”

“And you don’t want it anymore?” Gabriel settled back into his seat. “You just had to say.”

“No! No, that’s not it. No.” Crowley glanced back at the stage, and it was quite the scene.

Romeo and Juliet finally having their moment, and what was a moment if not something they weren’t supposed to have, and something they didn’t think about? The more Crowley thought about this, the worse it was going to get. If he just stopped working about the logistics and started working about how quickly he could get Gabriel into his lap, then everything would just be fine. He wouldn’t have to think, anymore.

“Get over here, Romeo,” Crowley smirked, a change of heart.

This was easy. He wanted easy. They _both_ wanted easy.

Gabriel pushed out of his chair and dropped down to his knees in front of Crowley. Crowley shifted his own thighs apart, giving Gabriel plenty of room to rest between them, his hands smoothing up Crowley’s trousers until he reached the laces. He tugged them apart and took Crowley’s cock in his hand. Crowley settled back into his chair, taking in a deep breath. Look natural. Just in case. It hadn’t crossed his mind that a little miracle wouldn’t hurt, but Gabriel was two steps ahead.

They couldn’t prove he wasn’t in Edinburgh if the miracle was that simple. There were all sorts of uses for a cloaking miracle. This wasn’t one that would cross the Archangels’ minds, but that just meant Gabriel would be safe. That was almost just as important as easy.

Crowley’s cock was soft. At Gabriel’s touch, it started to waken up, find interest in what was about to happen. Without so much as a moment of hesitation, Gabriel put his lips over Crowley’s cock and started to work him, with fingers around the base of it and Gabriel’s lips around the tip. It didn’t take long for Crowley’s cock to respond, in kind, and Gabriel groaned around it. The feeling of it hardening in his mouth, thickening. Crowley had a very modest looking cock, at the best of times—better to fit into his trousers. But when he was aroused, he spared nothing for size.

Gabriel had Crowley’s cock down his throat before he knew it. He swallowed around it, sucked on it, and hallowed out his cheeks. He rubbed his fingers along the base where he couldn’t quite take everything Crowley had. When he started to bob his head, his hand followed. He worked over Crowley’s cock with practiced ease, letting his eyes close so he could lose himself in the feeling of it hitting the back of his throat. Crowley groaned and gripped his hands into the armrests.

It was payback for Rome when Crowley hadn’t told Gabriel he’d cast his little miracle. It was fun to watch Crowley’s composure break, watch as he lost all cause to keep himself looking inconspicuous. Gabriel knew exactly how to tear him apart, and he did it by swiping his tongue over the slit of Crowley’s cockhead. He dug the tip of his tongue over it, pressing down, and Crowley nearly jolted with the sudden rush of pleasure. He gripped his hand into Gabriel’s hair and forced him down.

Gabriel swallowed around his cock, again, taking it as far back as he could. Crowley set the pace, after that, rolling his hips and fucking into Gabriel’s mouth with earnest. And Gabriel _let_ him. Gabriel shifted on his knees to palm at himself, but other than that, he didn’t move. He didn’t so much as take his own cock out of his own trousers, too focused on making Crowley _feel_. Lost in the easiness of it: they didn’t have to think about _why_ they were so concerned with making the other feel good. It just seemed like a natural state, where neither of them had been around the darker takes of this.

It didn’t take long before Crowley was coming, shooting down Gabriel’s throat. He held Gabriel on his cock to make him swallow it, and Gabriel swallowed all of it. Only then did Crowley let him go, and where Crowley thought that might have been the end of it, Gabriel was crawling up into his chair to sit in his lap.

“Crowley,” Gabriel rasped.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry,” Crowley soothed, putting his hands over Gabriel’s. Gabriel was trying to get his own laces undone, and it wasn’t working. He was too flustered, but Crowley was coming right down off his high and had all the wherewithal to get Gabriel’s trousers open.

“Don’t you want to see the play?” Crowley asked, taking his own cock in hand, for a moment. He stroked himself, keeping his eyes locked with Gabriel. “Turn around, Romeo. I wouldn’t want you to miss this.”

Gabriel did exactly that, once his trousers were worked far enough down for this to work. Crowley cast his own miracle, trying to ignore the pang of _want_. He wanted to work Gabriel open on his fingers, on his tongue. He wanted to have Gabriel trembling around him with such a simple touch, alone, but that _meant_ something. A miracle to open him up and have him dripping didn’t mean anything more than they could get to the fucking faster Crowley grabbed Gabriel by the hips and pulled him down. Gabriel followed the urge and sat back, impaling himself over Crowley’s stiff prick.

Crowley breached right through him, splitting him open and shifting underneath him to make it all _comfortable_. He had Gabriel’s legs up over the armrests, Gabriel leaning back against him so Crowley could mark him and kiss him all he wanted. And best of all, Gabriel could keep his eyes on the play he’d wanted to watch so badly.

“I’m having a _wonderful_ time,” Crowley admitted. Gabriel watched, overcome with pleasure as Crowley took hold of his cock and jerked. With his free hand, and this was where Gabriel’s attention was, Crowley snapped.

Gabriel groaned when Crowley started to fuck him. And that’s what it was. It was a quick fuck in a theater while they watched a play of two lovers who could never be together. It didn’t mean anything. Crowley had one hand around Gabriel’s cock, and another splayed out over his hips to help him move, and it didn’t _mean_ anything. Gabriel bit down on his knuckles and worked himself back down to meet every thrust. Every drag of Crowley’s cock lit a fire over all of his nerves.

“D-do you remember,” Gabriel gasped, “when you told me you could have _two_?”

Crowley let out a dangerous growl behind him, reaching up to tilt Gabriel’s head towards him. “Was that a _request_, Romeo?”

“Does that make you Juliet?” Gabriel teased with a grin.

“I’ll show you _Juliet_,” Crowley responded.

Gabriel suddenly cried out, his back arching at the sudden stretch inside of him. Crowley hadn’t even warned him, and suddenly, his second cock was forming _inside_ of Gabriel, pulling him apart and splitting him open. Gabriel fell back into Crowley’s shoulder, moaning out with his new burst of pleasure. He couldn’t even think past the feeling of Crowley inside of him. All he could do was hold onto something and work his hips down into Crowley, and Crowley responded in kind. He fucked up into Gabriel’s warmth with an increasing urgency.

They rocked together; the show was long forgotten to them. They were _lost_ in each other, in the feeling of being so close. Crowley kept a tight grasp on Gabriel’s hips—anything to ground himself with each roll of his hips. It was too good. Too much. _Everything_. Before they knew it, they were kissing. And it was less about where they were and more about what they were doing. Gabriel pulled off long enough to turn around and press their chests together, arms around each other.

When Gabriel sunk back down over Crowley’s cocks, taking them both at once, Crowley moaned into his mouth. Crowley was overcome with feeling, with pleasure. His hips bucked wildly, and he wrapped his arms low around Gabriel’s hips to grab at his arse, pull apart his cheeks and spread him open, wider, somehow. With that pleasure came some instinctual urge to make Gabriel _his_. He didn’t know that nobody could see them, but if they could, he didn’t want them to see what he had. That he had Gabriel, Principality and Guardian of the Eastern Gate, in his lap. Grinding down over his cocks, moaning for him._ Begging_ for him.

“Fuck,” Crowley groaned. “_Fuck_, Romeo, you’re perfect.”

“Are you going to keep calling me that?” Gabriel replied, breaking off into a gasp as Crowley hit inside of him, just right.

“Forever,” Crowley promised.

They didn’t pull apart until they’d both finished, and Gabriel had to perform a _miracle_, of all things, to clean himself up. Reasonably, two cocks shouldn’t have meant double the amount of cum in his arse, but Crowley made a few exceptions. Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to care. They’d finished before the play was over, and they spent the rest of that time wrapped up in each other. Pretending that it didn’t mean anything.

There were still a few places open, late as it was. There was a tavern that Crowley had heard a few things about, and there was no better way to end the night, that he could think of, then taking Gabriel to a tavern. They had a few things to talk about, and now that the whole play mess was over, they could _actually_ talk about it. Edinburgh had to happen, at some point. Crowley didn’t want to go. Gabriel didn’t want to go. One of them was going to have to take one for the team. There wasn’t any way better to decide _who_ than over a nice pint or two.

Gabriel still didn’t really eat, but it was getting easier to get him to drink. Crowley ordered and paid for their drinks, but Gabriel was the first one to take a deep drink of it. Something to wash away the _meaning_, maybe. This part was about business, and the business was that they were an angel and a demon that had no business being together. Working together, anyway.

“So, Edinburgh. I think you should go,” Crowley said. “I helped out with Hamlet, after all, yeah? Take one for the team, do me a favor, whatever convincing you need.”

“I think you should go. Seems just the kind of place for you.”

“Oh, are we back on that? Demon bullshit, whatever. You’re the one who wants to get fucked,” Crowley hissed, and Gabriel glared at him. Too far, alright.

According to the great law of old, anyway, Crowley was pretty sure sodomy was still frowned upon. Reasonably speaking, it wouldn’t _be_ sodomy if Gabriel would just change things around, but Crowley wasn’t going to press him, too far, into things that made him uncomfortable. One brand of uncomfortable versus another.

“Why don’t we flip?” Crowley tried, again. “I’ve got a few coins left over. Heads, you go to Edinburgh, tails, I stay here, in London.”

“Those are the same things. I’m not stupid, Crowley. Heads, you go; tails, I go.”

“Deal.”

Crowley pulled a coin out of his pouch and flicked it into the air. As it was not entirely left up to chance, when it landed in Crowley’s hand as _tails_, well. Crowley smiled and slid the coin across the table for Gabriel to see. Tails. He was going to have to go ride up to Edinburgh and steal some cattle, bless some fool. Whatever it was he needed to do, but he was going to be the one to get to do it. Crowley would be home free, and that opened an entire world of possibilities.

“Do you intend to do a little extra tempting, then?” Gabriel accused, glaring. “Seems easy to get a good commendation for work if I’m doing all of it for you.”

“I was thinking of going someplace warm, actually. Unless you wanted to be any more of a prick.”

Gabriel went back to his drink, trying to just ignore it all. They were both trying _so hard_ to ignore it all that they were going in a completely different direction. They were going to let it consume them until they were both angry and unhappy, bitter at each other for things that they couldn’t help. Crowley couldn’t help being a demon any more than Gabriel could help being an angel. If either of them would have been willing to admit to anything, they might have been able to help how they were acting about it. It was easier to stew.

It was like their moment in the Globe Theater hadn’t even mattered. It was like Crowley hadn’t spent the entire night holding Gabriel close, and like Gabriel hadn’t lost himself in having Crowley with him, like that. It was like they were enemies, all over again, because something around them was making sure that they couldn’t be anything _but_ enemies. Only, it wasn’t around them. It was them. Stubborn and stupid and angry.

“Well, I guess I’m gonna get to someplace warm,” Crowley said, having finished his pint over half an hour prior, but not having had the strength to say something.

“I guess you should. I suppose we can find each other again if there’s another need for a _business_ transaction. That’s all we ever seem to do, anyway,” Gabriel muttered.

Crowley looked at him and thought of everything that he could possibly say. None of it seemed enough. So, he didn’t say anything he thought of and changed his focus.

“See you around, Romeo,” Crowley waved.

Gabriel said nothing in return, just poured over his pint until it was gone. By then, Crowley had already gone off, someplace warmer. And, once again, they parted like this. Unhappy. Stupid. Angry. Gabriel couldn’t put a name to it, a face, or anything. All he knew was that he hated it, but he didn’t know how to stop it. Crowley might have felt the same, but without _knowing_, it was impossible to make the next decision. Neither of them seemed very keen on making decisions without knowing what would happen.

Crowley, on the other hand, as he hadn’t gone anywhere warm and instead stalked through the streets of London, knew exactly what to call it. He wouldn’t say the word, because it was a word that a demon could get into a lot of trouble for feeling. But he did. And maybe it meant something more than the word, itself, meant. It was better this way. To meet for business. To not worry about meaning and each other. Crowley would take his word to the grave. And he’d swear off everything that he wanted until the word made any sense.

**Author's Note:**

> 𓆏 Froge Smooches 𓆏  
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